


Impulsive Inclinations

by PoeticAnt44



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, Original Work
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Fingering, Anal Play, Anal Sex, Angry Kissing, Angry Sex, Attempt at Humor, Bandits & Outlaws, Bards College (Elder Scrolls), Blindfolds, Blow Jobs, Butt Plugs, Christmas Smut, Cuckolding, Cunnilingus, Dildos, Doctor/Patient, Emotional Sex, Erotica, Exhibitionism, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Face-Fucking, Female Homosexuality, Fingerfucking, First Time Blow Jobs, Forgiveness, Foursome - F/M/M/M, Gay Sex, Hand Jobs, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Light Bondage, Loss of Virginity, Love Confessions, Making Love, Male Homosexuality, Markarth (Elder Scrolls), Masturbation, Mating, Mating Bites, Mating Bond, Multi, Mutual Masturbation, Noble & Servant, Online Dating, Oral Sex, Orgy, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Outdoor Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Prison, Prison Sex, Revenge Sex, Riding Crops, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Seduction, Semi-Public Sex, Sex, Sexual Fantasy, Sleep Sex, Sorry Not Sorry, Spanking, Stress Relief, Subways, Teacher-Student Relationship, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Threesome - F/F/M, Threesome - F/M/M, Thunderstorms, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Voyeurism, Werewolf Mates, Werewolf Sex, Werewolves, f/f - Freeform, m/m - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-14
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:08:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 38
Words: 116,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25890370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PoeticAnt44/pseuds/PoeticAnt44
Summary: A series of one-shot stories that I crank out in the smut factory of my brain.This will be a continuing thing until I run out of ideas.
Relationships: Alduin/Female Dovahkiin | Dragonborn, Ancano & Savos Aren, Argis the Bulwark/Female Dovahkiin | Dragonborn, Athis/Njada Stonearm, Brynjolf (Elder Scrolls)/Original Female Character(s), Brynjolf/Female Dunmer Dovahkiin | Dragonborn, Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Rayya, Elisif the Fair/Original Female Character(s), Erdi (Elder Scrolls)/Bolgeir (Elder Scrolls)/Falk Firebeard (Elder Scrolls), Evan (OC)/Olivia (OC), Farkas (Elder Scrolls)/Original Female Character(s), Female Bosmer Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Vilkas, Female Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Hadvar, Female Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Odahviing, Female Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Vilkas, Giraud Gemane/Original Female Character(s), Hadvar/Ralof (Elder Scrolls), Male Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Jordis the Sword-Maiden, Marcurio (Elder Scrolls)/Original Female Character(s), Onmund (Elder Scrolls)/Original Female Character(s), Original Female Character(s)/Original Male Characters(s), Other Relationship Tags to Be Added, Ria/Vilkas (Elder Scrolls), Siddgeir (Elder Scrolls)/Nenya (Elder Scrolls), Torvar (Elder Scrolls)/Ysolda (Elder Scrolls), Ulfric Stormcloak/Tullius, Vilkas (Elder Scrolls)/Original Female Character(s), Vorstag (Elder Scrolls) | Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 251
Kudos: 248





	1. The Library

**Author's Note:**

> If you like my little stories, I'm more than happy to take requests on pairings you would like to see. But please note I won't do animal/human (like khajiit and human...it is not my thing and always weirds me out a bit), or other obviously disturbing pairs (I shouldn't have to say it, should I?)
> 
> Also, if you have a Nexus account and have access to Supporter Images, my friend Yellowbird11 made an amazing visual for my Library story (Chapter 1). You really need to check it out [HERE](https://www.nexusmods.com/skyrimspecialedition/supporterimages/3170?BH=1). The content is definitely NSFW. 
> 
> I am every grateful to [Vokunkendov](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vokunkendov/pseuds/Vokunkendov) for helping me sludge through these stories.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mina has been overflowing with arousal since she lost her virginity. As a young adult, trapped in the College of Winterhold, having a room next to Onmund, the man of her desires, she finds a way to reach the studious man who seems to always have his nose in a book.
> 
> Mina (Breton OC)/Onmund

Ever since coming of age, the day she lost her virginity—and what a day it was—Mina had felt it deep within her bones straight to the core between her legs. She tried to distract herself with studies and classes, but her body just burned. It didn't burn in the literal sense, but an aching, longing, constant desire flooding her body. It was a continuous struggle between self-control and letting go of all inhibitions, to just embrace what she felt and who she really was. The only thing holding her back was that she cared—cared about what others thought of her. The little Breton knew enough that she would have to embrace herself, to accept how she was.

Mina started slow, daring herself to be bolder—testing the waters and breaking the habit of fear and uncertainty. It was Onmund that piqued her interest the most. She had her eye on the young Nord ever since she arrived at the College. He was young like she was and frequently caught him staring at her when he didn't have his face planted in a book. He would quickly look away as if she didn't notice, blushing sweetly. Her small room was next to his, and it all started with evenings, before sleep, touching herself with fantasies of him, moaning out loud, hoping he would hear her. She imagined him stroking himself to her self-pleasures, cumming simultaneously, yet apart. 

At first, Mina could feel the heat creep to her face knowing others could hear her, but eventually, she grew more confident and cared less. Onmund spent many evenings in the library, catching up with his studies, so she knew most of her moans were for her own self-gratification, imagining he was in his room next to hers.

That night would be different. Removing all her clothes, the young woman reached into her wardrobe and pulled out her short robe. Mina wanted to give Onmund a taste of her body, anything to distract him from his books. It was time to have him that didn't involve fantasies. She did a quick brush of her long red hair and tip-toed down the winding steps. She snuck out of the Hall of Attainment and into snow and blustering winds. The little Breton had a low tolerance of the cold, as she shivered wearing next to nothing, running inside the Hall of Elements where most lectures were held, feeling the heat sweep over her after being in the frigid air outside. 

Her little robe was soaked from the snow, still shivering from the cold, she snuck upstairs to the Arcanaeum where she knew Onmund would be nose-first in a book—always the good student. Urag, the librarian, should have been sleeping, but she peeked around the wall of books to see no one was there other than the Nord. As predicted, he was busy reading, his long brown bangs falling in his face. 

Her hands shook with nervousness, but exhilarated at the same time, stomach fluttering watching the handsome man. Standing up straight and with confidence, Mina strolled into the library, her wet bare feet making slapping noises on the polished stone floor. She walked directly to a wall of books, ignoring the young man, knowing he was looking at her, probably wondering why she was dressed as she was in the horrible weather. The woman imagined him already hard at seeing her nipples showing through the delicate white fabric. The very thought made her wet between her legs. 

"What are you doing here?" Onmund asked because it was unusual for anyone to be in the library late at night. She could see his eyes trying not to stare at her breasts, but unable to help himself—precisely what she wanted.

"Looking for a book. What else would I be doing here?" Mina replied, standing on her tippy toes, her robe rising, barely covering her round ass, knowing he was watching. Exposing herself to him left a thrill inside her, something she had never done before, feeling her sex twitch in excitement.

"Do you need help reaching that book?"

Mina turned her head back to him, her smile coy. "I'm a bit short, I'm afraid."

Onmund chuckled. "You're perfect," he said and froze, eyes wide, clearly not meaning to say that out loud. "Sorry… uhm, here let me get that for you." He walked over to her and grabbed the book she was trying to reach, handing it to her.

"Thank you," she said, pleased she had gotten his attention, the book not mattering, watching him walk back to his table. _Now for something bolder_ , she thought as her bravery kicked in. Bending over as if to look for another book on a lower shelf, she knew her pussy and ass were completely exposed to the young man, beckoning him to come to her, touch her. It was an obvious invitation that she hoped he would take her up on.

After a moment, her smile was broad when she felt soft hands—mages' hands—rub her ass, a welcomed intrusion of a finger in her slick cunt. Mina's breath shuddered, bracing a hand on the shelved books as she thrust her ass out, her sex inviting further exploration. His touches and the very idea of doing something naughty in Urag's precious library left her dripping as wetness slid down her thighs. Hands explored her back, moving up her robe to expose more of her ass, her breathing became ragged, gasping at the pure pleasure of his touches. The fact that the Orc could walk out at any moment had her nearly high in arousal.

A tongue glided through her folds to her ass, causing her entire body to tremble in pleasure, letting a small mewl escape her lips so she wouldn't wake the librarian. Fingers probed and prodded her pussy, spreading her folds as his tongue lapped up her wetness, tasting her. Pushing herself back with hands, thrusting in his mouth, hungry for it. 

"Yes," she groaned.

"You like my tongue in your pussy, don't you? You are getting off on the risk of being caught by the librarian?"

"Yes," she breathed again. "More…"

As Onmund's tongue intruded, his hands glided along the silky fabric to the sash holding her robe together and untied it with one brisk movement. His hands continued to explore until he reached her swaying breasts as she hovered over the floor, pinching nipples. Mina nearly cried out from the pain, but she encouraged more. 

Hands grabbed her hair from behind, lifting her roughly as the Nord turned her to face him. His face wet from her juices as he roughly kissed her, tasting herself on his lips and tongue. The man pushed her down to her knees, facing his still covered throbbing cock. Opening his mage's robes, Mina was surprised he wore nothing underneath, eager to have him in her mouth, nearly drooling at his size. 

"I beat myself off to hearing your pleasures, fantasizing about you sucking my large cock with that pretty mouth of yours," he answered her questioning eyes, a thumb forced into her mouth, sucking it. "Look at you, so primal—you want to suck it, don't you?"

"Yes," she whispered, surprised at how sexual he was—an unexpected but pleasurable surprise. 

"Ask nicely."

"Please, let me suck your cock."

As soon as his cock was in her mouth, he tangled fingers in her hair, forcing her to take all of him as she gagged, enjoying the sensation of her gasps. She tried to push away, but he held firm, only letting her go a fraction so she could breathe. Mina liked this side of him, taking control of her, using her—so different from the studious young man. Pulling him out of her mouth, she ran her tongue along his tip, her swollen lips smiling at his groans. 

Shoving her off him, he roughly dragged her behind a bookcase, shoved her onto her back on a table, spread her legs, and watched her while she squirmed in anticipation. Her desire was all-consuming, wishing he would stop staring, to take her already. 

"By the Gods, do you have any idea how hard it is not to fuck you right now?"

"Fuck me."

"No, not yet. Pinch your nipples—pinch them hard."

Mina did as she was ordered, moaning from the pleasure and pain, watching him slowly stroke himself. She braced her feet on the table, her sex exposed with no apologies, no inhibitions. Reaching down to touch herself, since he wouldn't, Onmund rushed over and firmly grabbed her hand. "No."

"Please," she whimpered.

Her back arched as he bit a nipple, nearly crying out, but he covered her mouth. Moving his mouth down her body, the tongue barely grazed her clit, teasing and taunting her. She ached for a release, her pussy literally ached with need for him, to feel his thickness fill her. 

"You want to come so much, don't you?" he asked, his face still between her legs, feeling his hot breath on her already hot cunt. 

"Please," she begged.

"What was that?"

"Please, I beg you…"

"You sure this is what you want?"

"Yes!"

Onmund finally complied to her wishes as he pulled her cunt to his face, her ass hanging off the table, legs draped over his shoulder, her hands tangled in his hair, pulling too hard. Hanging half off the table left her body unable to do anything. He had all the control. Every time she neared her orgasm, he would move his tongue, fingers probing—one finger, two then three, a thumb slipped into her ass. A light current coursed through her as he used a spell on her, her body shuddering with pleasure. Mina knew she would have exploded right then had his tongue been on her clit, and he knew it, but he was exploring elsewhere on her flesh.

Her body had already built up the pressure of boiling water with a lid, and as soon as his tongue swirled, sucked on her clit, she exploded, covering her mouth to not be heard. Onmund assaulted her pussy with his mouth and tongue. He was unrelenting as her body convulsed until she soon begged for him to stop. 

Abruptly, the Nord stood and flipped her body over, pressing her breasts to the table, her ass sticking out, wetness spilling down her thighs. 

"Gods, you're so wet," he whispered, dragging fingers up her thigh. She heard a sucking noise, knowing he tasted her juices off his fingers as if she came honey.

Onmund pressed his body against hers, brushing his lips against her ear, his feathery breath sending chills up her arm. "Are you ready to be fucked?"

"I want you in me," Mina nearly croaked out, her body still numb, weak in her orgasmic fog. At that moment, he could do anything to her, and she wouldn't care.

"Tell me how much."

The Nord had to be aching as much as she. How he could resist her so much was mind-boggling, his will and control over himself was something to be admired, while she was a pile of soggy noodles.

"I want your thick cock in me now. I want to feel you fill every bit of me until it hurts. Please."

"How do you want it?" he asked, running a gentle hand down her sweaty back then cupping her ass, kneading.

"Hard and fast."

"As you wish," he whispered in her ear once more.

She knew it was coming, but it still shocked her as he didn't ease into it, thrusting into her until he bottomed out one move, her slickness allowing it. It still hurt, but it was a pleasurable type of pain. One thrust, two, then three—hard, slow, and deep. _So much control_. When he grabbed her hair in his hands, pulling her head up, arching her back, she knew he was about to pound her to Oblivion. Pound he did, jarring her entire body as he slammed into her, his balls hitting her pussy nearly had her over the edge once more. She pushed back into him— _deeper_ —as he thrust, fucking her. She could feel it, that sensation that he was near. It was something she was hard-pressed to describe, but she just knew it. Fingers dug into the flesh of her ass as he pulled her into him in sync to his fast-moving hips. She gave up the fight to keep up and let him have his way with her.

A door suddenly banged open, Urag yelling out to see who was disturbing his precious library. The Orc's presence did nothing to stop Onmund's thrusts, but they were slower, quieter. They were hidden, but if the Urag walked around, he would discover them, yet Onmund kept thrusting, both of them holding their breaths to not be heard. 

"Must be my imagination," the deep voice said from across the library. 

Once the Orc was gone, the Nord resumed his pounding. Oh, that spot was hit just so, so deep inside as she felt herself build up heat once more. The intense pressure on her bladder was painful, pleasurable, she didn't hold back as she came once more. His hand covered her mouth as she nearly screamed out, the convulsions around his cock soon left him little choice but to let go, spilling inside her. She could hear his pants, grunts, and sweat drip on her back from his efforts. Mina was numb, yet felt everything, her skin hypersensitive. His rhythm slowed, unable to go on and fell on top of her, his flaccid cock slipping out.

Onmund reached for her hands that were spread on the table as they grasped each other's fingers, both of them trying to catch their breath, bodies weak. He gave Mina gentle kisses on her cheek, which was in contrast with the hard fucking she had just received. She knew she was going to be sore in the morning, but it was all worth it.

"Is that what you wanted, my love?" Onmund asked the woman still beneath him.

"That was more perfect than I could have dreamed." 

"We nearly got caught," he chuckled.

"Yes, that is what made it even more exhilarating," she said, laughing with him.

"Happy Birthday, sweetheart."

Mina had lost her virginity to Onmund years ago and was one of the most wondrous things she had ever done in her youth. They soon started dating, then married two years ago. Ever since she first had sex with him, she wanted more and more, and her husband was willing to give it to her. The evening in the Arcanaeum was something she had wanted to do, and they finally risked it as a birthday gift to her. 

"Thank you, my love. Thank you for this," she said, nearly a whisper.

"I think we should do more of this when it's not just a special occasion."

Mina laughed, "Yes, I would like that, but not all the time. Let's still keep it special."

"What do you want to do next time?" he asked.

"It may sound cliche, but I always wanted to do the ‘naughty schoolgirl and the angry professor with a switch.’"

"Ooo, that does sound enticing."

Onmund pulled his wife up, covered her with her robe, pulling her in for an embrace. "I love you."

"I love you, Onmund." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading my first attempts at smut writing! Don't be shy to leave a comment, good or bad. I have tough skin. <3
> 
> I created characters in Skyrim. Onmund is from my NPC male replacer for Winterhold.


	2. A Bite Worse Than A Bite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Athis and Njada are at it again.

The two whelps were at it again. The never-ending bickering, arguing, and putting each other down was grating on Vikas' nerves. He had had it with Njada and Athis. Njada was a bitch, but she was a whelp, and there had been discussions about bringing her into the circle, but it wasn't going to happen if she couldn't control herself. Athis was smart and fast, but his specialty was pushing Njada to react. The Dark Elf seemed to derive some sort of demented pleasure from pissing the woman off, but it didn't take much effort to do so.

"That's it! I've fucking had enough of you two! It never ends! You two bicker like an old married couple—"

"As if!" Njada interrupted.

"I have to like the bitch to—"

"Say that to my face, asshole!"

Vilkas sighed, gritted his teeth as the fighting started all over again. Instead of getting the two whelps to calm down, he grabbed each of their arms and dragged them up into the mead hall, shoving them away. "There! Go on! Get it out of your systems and beat each other senseless! I'm done with this nonsense. If you two don't fix this, you're both out!" The Companion yelled and stormed off. "Fucking children—" he mumbled.

Before Athis had a chance to say anything, he saw stars as Njada punched him in the nose. "Bitch!" he yelled, blocked another punch, and took a swing at her in return, cursing as she ducked out the way. She was laughing, goading him.

The two started circling each other like vultures to carrion, throwing insults as a crowd began to form, watching the drama unfold. " _Hands up! Hit him! Block! Protect yourself!_ " were the shouts that couldn't be heard by the Nord and Dunmer, so riled up and angry as they tried to beat each other senseless.

A quick jab to his nose again and Athis could feel the blood dripping down his face that time, pushing the pain away as he sucker-punched Njada in the gut from the direction she didn't expect. He smirked at her groan, trying not to hold her ribs, her face enraged. "Asshole, you're going to pay for that."

"Come at me then, woman! Perhaps little girls don't belong with the Companions," Athis taunted her.

"Says the elf who isn't a Nord. The Companions are for Nords only!"

Njada, in her rage, repeatedly jabbed the elf in the ribs and a fast left hook to the jaw. It left him doubled over in pain, but he quickly righted himself as he blocked another punch and gave a quick jab to her cheekbone. Both of their knuckles were bleeding from repeatedly hitting bone, arms already bruising from blocking. 

It didn't take long before punches grew slow and heavy as exhaustion and pain were winning. One heavy punch to Njada's nose had her stumbling back onto her butt, trying to get up, but she was getting too tired. Athis let her get up before attacking once more, not wanting to hit someone while they were down. But she had a surge of new energy, blocked his hit, and one last swing to his face had him staggering and falling onto his back.

The Nord took advantage of the turn of events and sat on top of the Dunmer, bleeding all over him, fist raised. "Yield! You lost, asshole!"

With hands raised, barely able to see out of one swollen eye, nodded, "I yield...I yield. You win."

Njada had a triumphant grin on her face but soon crumpled into pain, tentatively touching her bruised and swollen face as Athis did the same.

"Alright, if you two are done being pissed at each other, head downstairs and get yourself cleaned up," Skjor ordered. "I hope this is the last we hear of you two bickering. Vilkas made it clear it won't be tolerated again. We are brothers and sisters here!"

The two stumbled into the communal room they shared with the rest of the whelps, and Njada stripped down naked, checking over her wounds and bruises, feeling if anything was broken. She hissed in pain when she poked a rib. They all had to live together, so modesty didn't exist. A good soak in the bath would help, she thought.

Athis looked over at the Nord, her naked back to him, and could see all her bruises and cuts. Now that he was no longer angry, he started to feel bad. He hadn't meant to hurt her so much, but she threw the first punch, and could she fight! She was strong, and he knew he probably looked as bad as she did. Despite their constant bickering, he still respected her strength, even if she could be a fucking bitch. Removing his own clothes, he too inspected his wounds, casting a healing spell over them, starting with his nose, hearing the crunch as it shifted back into place. Once he was healed, he watched her struggle to get dressed, holding tight to her ribs and felt guilty for all her pain. He could heal himself, but she had no such magic.

Njada felt a warmth course through her body as she nearly whimpered while her wounds healed, bones resetting, but just as quickly she shoved Athis off of her. "What the fuck are you doing?!" she yelled, clearly still angry with him. The fight did nothing to calm her temper as it did him. 

"I'm trying to heal you."

"Get off of me!"

"By Azura, you're fucking stubborn." Despite her protests, he held her firm from behind. Now that he was fully healed and she was still in pain, he was the stronger of the two. She struggled, trying to push him off, too stubborn, and filled with pride to let him help her, but he held her against him, casting his spell over her. Soon Njada settled down, too relieved to fight back as her pain washed away. Athis let her go once she quit struggling and turned her to face him. His fingers gently touched her face to heal her swollen eye, broken nose, and cracked jaw. The woman looked rough, and it strangely amazed him how much she could take.

Lifting up one of her hands, he healed the wounds on her knuckles then the other hand. Njada nearly balked when he grabbed her by the waist and ran his hands up along her ribs, healing the cracked ones. It was the first time she felt strange being naked in front of him, though they have done so countless times. Athis' hands fell at his sides when he was done, both staring stupidly at each other. After all the fighting, bickering, and beating each other, it was the most delicate and gentle thing she had ever felt him do. 

The Dunmer's dark red eyes nearly popped out of his head as Njada lunged at him, pulling his face into a kiss. Athis didn't quite know what to do or make of the situation he had found himself in, not entirely trusting her not to hurt him. But soon, he melted into her when he noticed she wasn't hurting him at all. They pulled away, her hands still on his face, looking at each other as if they were both questioning what was going on. Her blue eyes were bright and lips swollen from the rough kiss. 

Pausing for a beat, they lunged at each other once more. Their fight was long forgotten as their hands and mouths explored, still covered in blood, but that just spurred them forward. They were hungry—no starving for each other, and no amount of kissing or touching was satiating enough. He reached for her breast. They were small, but they fit perfectly in his hands as he cupped them, pinching her nipples. Njada rewarded him with a groan when he ran his tongue over sensitive flesh, biting the little nubs.

Njada shoved him off and fell to her knees, yanking the elf's smalls off in desperation, grateful boots were already removed. _One small victory_. Her aggressive attack on his cock left him reeling and unbalanced, nearly falling over. Arms behind him reaching, grasping for something to hold onto, eyes wide when she fit him entirely in her mouth. If he knew she could do that— _moaning_ —he wouldn't have fought her. He would have fucked her. He popped out of her mouth when he tried to lean his ass into something, but she lunged at it once more as if it was a lifeline to quenching her desire.

Athis' head lolled back as she sucked him, her mouth so warm, so wet— _by Azura, that tongue_. A shiver swept through him, a jolt as her tongue grazed his sensitive tip. His body nearly melted into her when she started sucking his balls, massaging his cock with a hand. Eyes wide again at an intrusion in his ass, a finger, but the woman was sucking again, and he quit caring. He saw someone standing in the doorway through hooded eyes, their eyes shocked, but his sole focus was Njada and her fantastic tongue. The arousal was strong enough to treat the outside world as non-existent.

"Stop, stop!" he said, pushing her away, his cock twitching for more, but he wanted to taste her too, fuck her. With a strength the Dunmer didn't know he had, he lifted her off her feet and onto the only table in the room, not caring that was where the others ate their meals sometimes. 

Athis fell to his knees and spread the woman's thighs, her sex glistening— _was all that for him_? Spreading wet folds, he dove in, tongue reaching, exploring, tasting her. Her musk nearly sent him over the edge, the smell drawing him in like a moth to a flame. Nails dug in his scalp, fingers tangled through his hair. Her moaning encouraged him to give her more. To push him. 

Njada didn't know what came over her. Athis was healing her one moment, his touch soft, so different from the beating earlier. It just did something to her, heated her. She had to have him, taste him. _By Talos that tongue_ , she shuddered as he twirled his tongue around her clit. Being over a hundred, he must have had lots of practice because he knew what he was doing. If she had known— A gentle tug on her clit with lips as he sucked, swirling that tongue made her spread further for him, her feet planted firmly on his shoulders.

Some came into the room as if they didn't know there was anyone else there and slipped back out, and finally, someone closed the door behind them, but Njada didn't care at that moment. Her back arched as a hand reached for her breast, pinching her nipple. A thumb slipped in the ass, she thrust her pussy deeper into his mouth. The multiple sensations nearly threw her over the edge. Her face flushed with the spreading of heat through her body, her orgasm came out of nowhere, burst through like an explosion. Her legs and pussy were clinging to the elf's face in desperation as her body shuddered. 

Athis felt Njada shove him off of her and watched her drop to the ground on her hands and knees, ass in the air. He groaned at the invitation. Part of him wanted to just stare at the vision before him, so open, so trusting, but his dick wouldn't allow it. Shoving her upper body to the ground, the Dunmer clawed her hips and thrust all the way into her slick wetness. He just held it there, feeling her tight warmth around his cock. His movements started slow, but there was too much pent up energy and adrenaline. There was no way he would have been able to take his time. 

Rubbing a finger into her wetness, he slipped a finger into her puckered ass, then two. Yes, she liked it, her moans proving it, her ass pushing back for more. Three fingers, trusting in and out of her as in tandem with his cock in her pussy. It was a beautiful sight. Njada must have been rubbing herself as he penetrated her in each hole, for she nearly screamed out another orgasm, her cunt grabbing him tightly in her pulses. He couldn't hold back any longer with her throbbing around him. Pulling out his fingers, Athis, grabbed her ass for dear life and pounded her until he exploded. 

"By Azura!" he yelled. 

When he was spent, Athis fell on top of her, but she shoved him off in irritation. The man sighed. He had hoped the sex fixed their problems, wanting to fuck her again, but she seemed angry once more. "I thought…"

Instead, Njada shoved him on his back and sat on his chest, spreading her slickness on him, a smile on her face. "I think that was even better than a beating, and I so enjoyed beating you."

Athis smirked, "I enjoyed beating you too, not just your face but that pussy of yours."

Her laugh was resonant yet odd since the Dunmer rarely heard her laugh, if ever. "We definitely need to fight more often," she said.

"Vilkas won't be happy with us. He threatened to kick us out."

"Then we will just fuck."

"Sounds like a good plan to me!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Don't be shy to share your thoughts. <3


	3. Before the War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hadvar and Ralof both live in Riverwood and have been best friends for years, now they finally let each other know physically.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one isn't overly graphic and ends on a sad note, sorry. These two were going to be a longer story, but I just couldn't bring myself to write the Civil War. Since they both live in Riverwood, surely they would have been friends at some point before the war.

He had to take a rest, sitting down on a pile of hay. He pulled out a rag to wipe the sweat off his brow that dripped down his face. It was unseasonably warm with not a hint of a breeze. The horse's stall was stifling, the air stagnant in the heat, but at least his nose desensitized the smell of horse shit as he cleaned it out. Taking large gulps of water, dumping some on his head from his waterskin, Hadvar stood and removed his drenched tunic and resumed his cleaning duties. His auburn hair stuck to his wet face as he brushed it away irritably. 

The young man was being punished for getting into a fight with one of the boys in his village. Alvor, his uncle, and guardian gave Hadvar a long list of duties as punishment for his behavior. " _You are nearly twenty-one Winters, Hadvar. It is time you behaved like an adult and stop picking on other young men._ "

He tried to explain to his uncle that the young man was picking on a girl. He was being vulgar and made the first blow. It was self-defense, but his uncle didn't care, believing Hadvar should have walked away. Perhaps he should have, but Thomas was an asshole and a bully. The only way to stop a bully was with a swift punch to the nose, which unfortunately turned into a brawl. He was still sore, his eyes black and blue from a broken nose.

At least the horse's stall was his last chore for the day. When he was done, he planned to take a long bath and go to bed early. Between the beating and his chores, his whole body ached. 

Shoveling the muck and horse shit, he didn't hear someone come up behind him. "You smell like shit," the man said to Hadvar's back.

"Well, I am cleaning out shit after all," he retorted, not turning around.

"Is this punishment for yesterday?"

"Aye."

"Let's go for a swim."

"I can't. I have to finish this then I need a bath. I'm also sore and tired."

"You're almost done. Come on… you can wash the stink off in the river."

Hadvar put the shovel down and turned to look at his best friend. Raloff was more than a best friend, he was a man Hadvar had a crush on since he hit puberty. He never said anything, afraid to lose his friendship. Like him, Ralof had his tunic off in the heat, his blonde hair wet from sweat, the single braid hanging limply. The blonde was fit, and it was hard for Hadvar not to stare at his physique. 

"Damn, you look like a horse kicked you in the face," Ralof said.

"It felt like it."

"So, river… yes or no?"

"Fine. I'll be done soon." It didn't take much to convince Hadvar to do things when it came to Ralof. 

"Need a hand?"

"Thanks, but I'm almost done."

"Then I will just stay here and stare at your fine ass, Hadvar," Ralof said.

 _Did he just say I have a fine ass?_ Before Hadvar could think about it more, Ralof started laughing. Of course, he was laughing. His best friend didn't like him like that. Hadvar couldn't control the flush of his face and ears, grateful his back was turned. "Ha, ha, very funny," he said, covering his tracks.

Hadvar threw the last bit of straw into the stall and rammed the pitchfork into the ground. "All done," he said. "Ready?"

"Race you!" Ralof yelled and took off before Hadvar had a chance to react. 

"Hey! No fair, ass!" he yelled, running after his friend. 

By the time Hadvar reached him, Ralof was already removing all his clothes. Hadvar also removed his clothes as they both jumped into the frigid waters. It was their favorite watering hole away from Riverwood. It was filled with lush trees and vegetation, which was thick in the season's heat.

"Wooo! I can feel my balls disappear into my stomach!" Ralof yelled.

Hadvar laughed and splashed him. Soon the two were trying to drown each other, wrestling in the water. Both burst through the water's surface, laughing and gasping for air. It was hard for Hadvar to ignore they were naked, but he got better at it with time. When he first realized he wanted Ralof, he avoided him for a while, not wanting to get hard by accident. Eventually, Hadvar got better at controlling it.

Pulling themselves out of the water before they froze to death, they laid their naked bodies in the grass, basking in the bright light and warm air. With hands behind their heads, they stared up into the clouds, with no thoughts or worries. It was just a day with best friends.

"So you fought Thomas yesterday over a girl, huh? Claudia, right?" Ralof asked.

"Thomas is an asshole. It was time someone beat the shit out of him."

"Is this a girl you like, is that why?"

"No!" Hadvar said with a little too much defensiveness in his voice.

"Oh, ho! You _do_ like her!" 

"No, it's not like that. Thomas is just a milk-drinking jerk."

"Hadvar and Claudia—hey! That hurt!" Ralof said, rubbing his arm after getting punched and hit Hadvar back.

Soon, the two were rough-housing again as young men were prone to do. Ralof managed to get on top of Hadvar and pin the man down by the wrists. "Why so sensitive, Hadvar?"

"I'm not! Get off me," he said as he tried to buck Ralof off of him. He had no leverage being pinned down.

"Is she not good enough? Claudia is one of the prettiest girls in Riverwood."

"She's fine."

Ralof cocked an eyebrow as if in shock, but his smirk said otherwise. "Don't like girls?"

Hadvar froze at his friend's question. "What…?" 

"How long have we been best friends, Hadvar?"

"I...I don't know, twelve years?"

"Yes, and why is it you never talk about why you look at me the way you do?"

"I...I…" Hadvar suddenly got angry and tried to shove Ralof off of him again, but the damned Nord was too dense and strong. "Get off me!" He felt like cornered prey and wanted to lash out his friend, feeling panic coming on. It was easier than facing the truth.

Ralof was no longer smiling down at him. There was no smirk, teasing looks, laughing. His manner was serious as they stared at each other. Hadvar didn't know what to do, at a loss for words, his mind blank. Even his body stopped fighting to get his friend off of him. As his anger subsided, he became too much aware of the man's cock on his chest. It wasn't unusual for the friends to be nude as they often swam together, but Ralof was calling him out on something Hadvar struggled to keep hidden.

"Do you want to kiss me?" Ralof asked, always the bolder of the two friends.

Panic was lurking in the back of Hadvar's mind, but at the same time, there was an allure to the very idea. He suddenly felt exposed in his nudity. Hadvar's silence said it all. He knew by not saying no was indicative of saying yes. Any other man would have vehemently denied it, but not Hadvar. If he said yes, he was terrified his friend would laugh in his face or get angry. If he said no, he may lose his only opportunity. It seemed Ralof already knew how Hadvar felt.

The nod was barely perceptible, gulping air that sounded like thunder in his ears. Ralof reached down with his face, not letting go of Hadvar's wrists and touched his lips. It wasn't quite a kiss, it was more of a taste to see how they liked it. Though it was so little, it felt like the world, already his lips felt empty when Ralof pulled away. Closing his eyes, Hadvar groaned, feeling his cock harden. He knew Ralof could feel it since he was sitting on it. Then his eyes flicked to Ralof's cock, seeing it just as hard, feeling encouraged. Staring at Ralof's bright blue eyes, they were full of mischief. 

"I knew you liked me. You can't be friends with someone as long as we have and not notice everything about each other."

Hadvar could barely find the words to respond. He was so nervous yet hopeful there could be more between them. Disappointment plagued his thoughts as Ralof let him go and got off of him. He supposed they would have to talk about it, but he didn't want to talk about it—he desired to kiss Ralof some more. The last one wasn't nearly enough.

He moaned into Ralof's mouth as he kissed him again, all worries brushed aside for the moment as he got lost in his friend's lips, his tongue. Hadvar didn't understand the turn of events, but he didn't question it either, flowing with it like a leaf rushing downriver. It was rough and scary, but thrilling at the same time.

"I thought you liked girls," Hadvar finally managed to get out some words.

Ralof shrugged, "I like you too."

That was all the encouragement Hadvar needed as he plunged his lips to Ralof's. A fire was building inside him as their kiss ignited. No longer was it slow and tentative. Now it was searing, magnetic. Their hands reaching for each other's faces, the scruff on Ralof's chin was rough to his fingers. 

Despite Hadvar wanting Ralof for so long, the blonde Nord was the braver of the two as his hands explored his friend's body, fingers tracing veins on the arms. As the minutes passed, Hadvar became bolder, and soon their hands were touching, grabbing flesh. Their kisses turned to licks, nibbles. 

Catching his breath, Hadvar laid his head back in the grass as Ralof propped himself up on an elbow, his eyes wandering over his friend's body as if he had never seen it before. Hadvar's heart kicked up a couple of beats—more than a couple as his best friend dragged gentle fingers through his chest hair, down, down, down to the thatch of hair surrounding his cock. His breathing became rapid as Ralof touched his hardness, twitching in response. 

"I've never touched a man before," Ralof said. "Who better to do that with than my best friend?"

Ralof may not have touched a man before, but any man who feels himself knows what to do, and his friend knew what to do. He grasped Hadvar's cock in his hand, squeezing just enough. The movement sent a shiver through Hadvar's body at his touch. He wanted to close his eyes, but he would miss everything. 

His best friend's daring gave Hadvar courage. Sitting up, he pulled Ralof upright and sat facing each other. He wrapped his legs around his friend, cocks touching as he pulled Ralof's face to his. He would have been happy with just the kiss, but Ralof gave him so much more. Hadvar's tongue explored his mouth as his hand reached down to grasp Ralof's hardness, moaning once more in the man's mouth. Ralof got the hint as he too grabbed Hadvar's cock.

They were kissing and stroking in tandem, free hands were fisted in hair, teeth nibbling necks as their moans grew louder. Forehead to forehead, they watched as they stroked each other. Hadvar could feel the heat spread through his body and centralize, his heart rate elevated as the two panted and sped up their strokes. Mouth to mouth, but not kissing, their eyes closed as they felt calloused hands stroking, gripping, and precum leaking. 

Ralof was the first to come, his strokes on Hadvar staggering as he pulsed and spilled into his friend's hand. He pushed Hadvar on his back, and boldly slipped his cock in his mouth. Hadvar was not expecting Ralof to suck him, and it was more than he ever hoped. It was his first time, and the warm, wet mouth of his friend was heavenly. Grabbing his hair with two hands, he exploded on his stomach, Ralof not swallowing him, but that was OK.

Once the heated passion died down, Hadvar started to feel strange and awkward. He didn't regret what they did, but now he didn't know what to say. The words were strangely absent from his mind. No, that wasn't true. It was fear that kept him silent. He wanted more and was afraid to ask for it.

Ralof rolled on his back and pulled Hadvar into him, holding him. He put his head on his friend's chest, hearing his heartbeat slow down. Perhaps he didn't need to say anything. Their actions, touches said more than words. 

"I'm leaving in a week," Ralof said out of the blue.

"What?"

"We talked about this, remember? I'm off to join the Stormcloaks."

 _No, Ralof can't be leaving, not after what they just did_. He sat up and looked at his friend expecting his laughter and a punch in the arm, but there was only sadness in his eyes. "What do you mean you're joining the Stormcloaks?"

"Hadvar, I have talked to you about this. I just found out I'm leaving in a week, which was why I wanted to spend some time with you."

"No, you can't go. Not after...this," Hadvar demanded, waving his hands at their nude bodies.

"It's important to me… for honor and glory."

"You mean, honor, glory, and death!" Hadvar pushed off Ralof, suddenly filled with anger, sadness, emptiness. 

Ralof grabbed Hadvar's hand. "Come with me, Hadvar. We can fight together… be together."

"I...I don't want to be a soldier. I don't want to go to war. I want to stay here with you."

"It's too late. I have signed up, and I'm going. I'm leaving for Windhelm in seven days."

"No! You can't go!"

"I thought you would be more understanding! I thought maybe you would go with me! We could be together!" Ralof said, feeling anger bubble up.

"It's not a cause I believe in. I don't want to die for something I don't believe in!"

"What about me? Don't you believe in me? You have been pinning for me for fucking years, we finally did something about it, and you're not going to go with me?"

Hadvar shoved Ralof away. "Dammit! You did this with us now knowing you were going to go?!"

"Are you saying you wouldn't have done it with me if I told you beforehand?"

The tears sprung up in Hadvar's eyes. After all that time, he finally got to have Ralof only to leave and go off to war in a week. He felt used, angry. "You didn't give me that choice before you started kissing me?"

Hadvar stood and rushed to grab his clothes as Ralof grabbed his hand. "Please, Hadvar. Come with me."

He yanked his hand back, tears spilling as he got dressed. "It's not my war."

"You're a Nord too! It's Skyrim's war!"

Hadvar couldn't speak. He ran home. The pain was unbearable. He finally had his chance with Ralof only to leave him behind for a senseless war and for a god he didn't care about. He didn't want to die for something he didn't believe in, no matter how much he loved Ralof. He wiped away his tears, hearing Ralof yell after him, but he never looked back. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! <3


	4. Clearing Out Bandits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sille is desperate for a different sort of life that doesn't involve farming. She learned to defend herself and became a mercenary. Her first job was to clear out some bandits in Fort Greymoor. Just when she thought she was going to be successful, she was knocked out and captured. Instead of waiting to find out what they planned to do with her... nothing good, she made a deal with the bandit leader.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one has a bit of a story to it.
> 
> I created their faces to how I imagined them when I wrote this.
> 
> Characters: Female Nord OC/Male Nord OC

Farm life was no life for Sille. She wanted adventure—to explore all of Skyrim and its wonders. One couldn't do that while tilling hard earth and beating crops into submission. The woman took her cue from Erik the Slayer. They grew up together in Rorikstead, and now he left, traveling with the Dragonborn no less. As he was learning to be a mercenary warrior, he trained Sille all he knew of sword fighting and hand-to-hand combat. She already knew how to use a bow, so she practiced every day. 

Bandits plagued Whiterun recently, taking advantage of those unfortunate during a time of war and dragons, the bastards. What better way to go on an adventure than to hire herself out as Erik did. Sille felt strong and experienced enough to kill a few bandits, making some gold while she was at it. There were reports of some bandits that needed clearing out, so Sille made her way to a fort not too far from home with dreams of making her own coin.

When she arrived at Fort Greymoor, she hid behind a large boulder and inspected her surroundings. Two sentry guards were pacing on the ramparts above her. If she timed it just right, she could take them out and not worry about their arrows raining down from above, killing her. When they were far enough apart, she took out one, then the other. Sille thanked the stars they didn't fall to the ground, alerting the others to her presence.

Pulling out her sword and shield, Sille proceeded inside the fort with great care. Craning her neck around the corner of the wall, she saw two bandits. One was banging away on an anvil, and the other was gutting an animal for dinner, she supposed. Her best bet would be to take out the blacksmith since he had a bigger weapon than a dagger in the hunter's hand. 

The man looked down to see a sword thrust out of his chest, then collapsed to the ground. She pressed a foot to his back and yanked out her sword, feeling confident in her abilities so far. Not bad for a first job. Now for the hunter. But before she could turn around and attack, her body coursed with electricity. Pain gripped her body, muscles spasming, hair standing on end as she dropped her weapons. _Crap, a mage_ , was her last thought before passing out. 

Sille didn't know how long she was out. Her eyes squinted opened to a darkened room, but there was enough light to make out the bars in front of her. She was in a cell. There was little pain considering a lightning spell struck her. Perhaps someone healed her because there was no way she wouldn't have burns all over her flesh.

"Awake, I see," said a man in a dark corner. His voice was deep and rich. The Nord accent was clear.

Sille couldn't see his face, but she knew well enough that he was one of the fort's bandits. She kept quiet, biding her time to find a way out of there, reminding herself she was still alive for a reason. 

"Cat got your tongue?" he chuckled.

She always hated that term, finding it stupid, especially given her current predicament. Why should she talk to him? 

"I know what you're thinking. You're wondering why we haven't killed you yet. Trust me, my pet. My bandits nearly did just that… and more, but I stopped them. But before you get too comfortable in your mortality, I want to find out who hired you."

"What do I get out of it?" she asked. 

"You, my dear, get nothing out of it other than not being killed right away. We will find out one way or another, so you may as well tell me." He was implying torture. No, she couldn't handle torture.

The man spoke intelligently, more than she expected from a mere bandit, and wondered if he was the leader. He had to be. "I guess if I'm going to die anyway, there isn't much you can do about the information. All I know is I went looking for work, and the Jarl's Steward gave me two missives about the bandit problem. I just wanted to get paid."

"Hmm, that poses a problem, doesn't it? I guess he will just send someone else if you don't return. Pity, considering I like this place."

As the bandit leader walked away, she yelled out. "Wait! How long do you plan to keep me here? I mean, if you're going to kill me, you might as well do it now. I get bored easily." Sille was trying to be braver than she felt, but she scrambled to find a way out of there. There would be no escaping until they unlocked her cell.

He ambled over to her, standing close. The only thing dividing them was the bars. He not only didn't talk like a bandit, but he didn't look like one either. His hair was wavy dark brown to his shoulders, with perhaps amber eyes, but it was hard to tell in the dim light. His armor was neat, expensive. It was then she knew what to do—how to get out of there. The bandit was attractive, young enough, thirties maybe. Perhaps she could use that to her advantage.

"Yes, I see those cogs in your head spinning. You want to escape, and you think you can use your body to do that. Tell me I'm wrong," he chuckled.

"I'm not unpleasant to look at," she conceded, shrugging. 

His hand burst through the bars before she could react and grabbed her by her long red braid, his light eyes penetrating her gray ones. "Yes, you are easy on the eyes, I have to admit. At least your face is."

The bandit leader pulled her body hard against the metal bars, breasts slipping between both metal rods in her leather armor. He grabbed one to feel her. Sille tried to hide her fear, her heart a sporadic rhythm. She swallowed hard, hoping he didn't hear but kept her eyes trained on his, not backing down.

"Too bad you have all this leather on. It's so hard to tell what the rest of your body looks like."

Sille knew she had him. Although he knew her intentions, he was eager to push the boundaries to have some fun with the prisoner. "That can be remedied easy enough, bandit," she said.

"Do it. You think I don't know what you are doing, but I know there is no way for you to escape, despite your hopes, which is why I'm allowing this."

 _I will find a way, bandit_. The mercenary unbuckled her leather jacket, slipping it off to reveal an old and worn tunic underneath, then pulling that over her head to expose her breasts. She tried not to shake from the fear, to show him she was confident and unafraid of him, reminding herself this was her choice, not his, so she could escape and live.

"Come back over here," he ordered.

She took a deep breath and walked over to the bars, slipping her breasts between them, knowing he would want to touch them. The man was surprisingly gentle as he ran a thumb over her nipple, hardening it, then cupping a breast. Sille expected him to be rough, yanking at them like the vulgar bandits she took him for. 

"Lovely," he whispered. "I admit, living with a bunch of men leaves something to be desired. It's been a while since I fucked a woman as lovely as you."

"Maybe… well, maybe if I'm good enough, you will want to let me go, bandit."

He barked a laugh. "My fellow bandits would never allow that. They follow me for a reason. But I doubt you could give me enough pleasure to do that."

Despite his words, Sille had to try. "You doubt my abilities?"

"No, my dear. I do not doubt you, but I admit the very idea intrigues me. The daring of it all is quite enticing." He whispered those last words, and Sille wondered why.

Sille took that as encouragement and nearly laughed at his face of disappointment when she pulled away, him reaching for a breast. She unbuckled her weapons belt with purpose, minus the weapons, dropping it noisily onto the floor. Then she untied her breeches, pulling them off in a way that enticed. She stood only in her smalls, trying not to cover her body. Her hands were clammy from nerves, but she pushed forward, knowing it was the only way to escape. _Sex distracts_ , she told herself.

"Do we have a deal then?" she asked.

"Come here."

"No. You've tasted enough. Do we have a deal?" she asked again.

"Turn around," he ordered.

"No."

"If you think I'm letting you out of here with your hands free, you're sorely mistaken. I have a cell over there that has manacles if you prefer."

 _Dammit! Nope, she didn't prefer._ Sille hadn't considered that, but she should have. There was still a chance, she reminded herself. _You can't escape a locked metal door, Sille. Turn around as the nice bandit ordered_. Sighing, she turned around.

"Hands up on the wall."

Sille did as he asked. Before he did anything sexual to her, he grabbed one of her hands, wrapping some cord around her wrists, then held the other and tightly bound it with the other. _Yes, he is smart_. Sille was hoping he would take advantage of her prone form and forget to tie her.

He grabbed her hair with unexpected forcefulness, yanking her head back. "If you try anything, I will serve you up as dinner and dessert for my bandits. Is that understood?"

Sille tried to nod, but her head was too far back. "Yes," she gasped, body trembling in the sudden flux of additional fear.

"Good. Now I need to set some ground rules. No biting, scratching or trying to escape. I know you will but remember my threat. I will do it. And just to prove my intentions, you are going to parade in front of my men naked."

"No…" Sille cursed herself for doing this. It was stupid to think she could fuck the man and escape. Now she had to worry about rape. 

The bandit leader tore off her smalls with a dagger, locked her armor behind the cell door, so there was no simple way to get it should she escape as he dragged her through the fort. Sille tried to put on a defiant face as the bandits leered at her body, ignoring their hooting and cheering towards their leader.

"It's time for your leader to have some fun, boys."

His room was spacious and tastefully decorated, which was surprising to her. The bed was enormous and looked soft. "You don't live like a normal bandit."

"Dear, that is because I'm not your average bandit. I have grown to like this place, but thanks to you failing your mission, well good for me except now they will send someone more equipped to handle us."

Sille huffed in irritation. "I'm equipped!"

"Indeed, you are, sweetheart," he laughed at her outburst, eyeing her body up and down. That wasn't exactly what she meant.

He faced her towards his bed, bending her over. Her face planted in his covers, her ass in the air. Gripping her bound hands with one hand, he trailed soft fingers along her ass. She would not escape this way, dammit. 

"What a nice ass you have, soft skin," he said, slipping fingers in her pussy, slowly in and out. "Huh, I wasn't expecting you to be wet, my dear—intriguing."

She had to admit it had been a while since she fucked. The fingers felt too good, but the wetness embarrassed her. It made her look weak. The purpose was to escape. Sille yelped when she felt the tongue run along her pussy and ass. It was the last thing she expected.

"Surprised? I'm afraid I couldn't help myself. You are quite tasty."

The man let her go, and she found herself not knowing what to do before he told her to stay exactly as she was. Sille could hear leather being unbuckled, dropping to the floor. He was getting ready for her. _Now!_ She struggled to stand up and turned to face him in the middle of his undress, a leg swinging out at his head, but he dodged out of the way just in time.

"Naughty," he laughed. "As if I did not expect you to resist, but good for standing your ground. I respect that."

Sille tried to kick him again, but he grabbed her foot, shoving her as she hopped backward, landing on the bed. "Do let me finish getting undressed before attacking again, yes?"

She hated his smug look as it weakened her resolve. It was making her question her ability to get out of there. Now that she was on her back, lying on her hands, it made movement harder. When he fully stripped, he walked over, got in the bed, and hovered over her, shoving his body between her legs to protect his most prized possession. "I thought you were going to make me melt and then make your escape. I was hoping for it, at least, but this way is fun too."

"Asshole," she spat, finally finding her voice.

The man gave her a toothy smile. "Indeed, I am." 

The bandit bent down and kissed her. Sille's eyes opened wide as he shoved his tongue in her mouth. The kiss she was not expecting. She recovered enough to wrap her muscular thighs about his waist, locking feet against his back and squeezed. He groaned in her mouth, but it didn't stop the relentless assault on her lips. So, it wasn't the worst kiss she ever had. No, it was a damned fantastic kiss, and she was struggling not to respond, but she did it all the while squeezing the life out of his ribs.

"You are strong, but not powerful enough, I'm afraid. Good effort, though. I must say, you have some delectable lips," he said when he pulled away.

"'Delectable?' What bandit uses that word?"

"I do. I wasn't always trash, my dear."

His amber eyes dilated and grew hot as he slipped fingers into her pussy again. Crap, she was soaking through, hating his knowing grin. When he sat up, he pulled her up with him by the hair. "Open that pretty mouth of yours, please. No biting now. I like to keep my promises."

Sille opened her mouth as he ordered her. She expected this. If she could suck him off, he would be numb and then fight him off. The fist in her hair tightened as he thrust in and out in her mouth. His cock was large, and she gasped for air through her nose, nearly gagging with his length. "Very nice," he breathed. 

She felt him shudder in her mouth and yanked himself away. "Too nice… I'm not ready to finish yet." _Shit_. 

On her back once more, _crap_ , she trembled at his tongue and lips sucking on her nipples, finding herself arching to him on instinct. The bandit trailed kisses down her stomach, which fluttered. Why was it fluttering? He wasn't going to suck on her, was he? 

"I need more of a taste," he said as if answering her question. "I want you weak and ready for my every whim."

The first lick was like fire—a pleasant, warming fire after a long, wintry day. Her body jolted at the feeling, groaning, knowing he was down there smiling smugly. But oh, could he use that tongue as it trailed from ass to clit. She was sure she mewled at one point. So, orgasm first, then legs wrapped around his throat, though she worried about the boneless feeling her legs were doing, uselessly lying there at his sides. His tongue swirled on her clit as she arched into him. Her fingers fisted the blanket, toes curling. Her brain did not register why the bandit was trying to get her to come and wondered when the tables turned on her. Maybe she never had the upper hand. 

A tear slipped out when she felt the orgasm coming, ripping through her body like a pleasant shock if there was such a thing. A strangled cry poured out of her as she came, his tongue relentless, pushing her for more. Yes, he wanted her weak. Before she could lay sprawled in pleasure, she did as she promised herself, wrapping her wet thighs about his neck, cunt still pulsing and slick with pleasure, and squeezed. 

She looked up to see his face turning red as she squeezed harder, but he kept attacking her pussy with his tongue, feeling that fire again… no. The man was immune to her legs around his throat. A finger slipped in her ass, and Sille moaned once more, legs weakened and slipping off his neck. Dammit, he knew what he was doing as another orgasm tore through her.

"That's the way I like my women, weak and limp—not wanting to strangle me to death," he said, chuckling in his smug way that had become all too familiar now—infuriating. He wiped his wet face along her flesh in kisses. When he reached her face, kissing her lips, he pulled away and whispered it was his turn.

Sille found herself prone once more out of bed, face down, ass in the air. She wasn't sure if she felt afraid or angry at that point, yet still filled with a strange lust after her orgasms. "I have dreamed of this moment with you like this since I saw you passed out in my courtyard," he said. "I did not expect you to use your sex to escape, though I am happy you did."

"I aim to please," Sille said, voice flat.

"And you are quite pleasurable, my dear. Ready for me?"

"Do I have a choice, bandit?"

The question stopped him. She expected the man to plunge right into her, uncaring, but he didn't. "We always have a choice. I'm not a rapist. This was your idea, remember? Well, at least I had a taste of you." The man said it in a way that it made no difference whatsoever.

It stunned Sille, her ass still hanging in the air expecting to get fucked, but he backed down. Why? He's a fucking bandit. Why did that piss her off? Bandits are rapists. Finally, she eased her body down and turned around to sit on the bed. He was leaning naked against the stone wall, his cock large and still erect, twitching, wanting her... It was a fine cock; she admitted to herself. Her eyes drew up to his, a glint of humor in them knowing she was enjoying his size. "Why?" she asked, blushing at being caught watching.

"I told you, I'm not a typical bandit. My friends may rape you, but that's not my style. I like women who are willing. It makes the moment more enjoyable, wouldn't you say?"

"I suppose… yes. Who are you?"

"Bah, I am no one. Just a noble prick turned bandit because it bored me."

"I'm not buying it."

It was then his eyes hardened. "I don't care what you buy or not." 

Sille tensed when he walked to his armor and pulled out his dagger, unable to control the fear ripping through her body as she scrambled back onto the bed, the wall stopping her momentum. Now she had done it. She pissed him off, and she was going to die. Her lip quivered, unable to control her emotions. The farmer turned mercenary didn't want to die.

"Stop your sniveling. I will not kill you. Stand up and turn around."

When she did, he cut her bindings. "Everyone should be asleep by now, and you can make your escape. They will just laugh at me in my sexual weakness after raping you that allowed your escape. They will understand."

"Why?"

The man shrugged. "You're beautiful. Isn't that enough? I didn't want my companions to soil you."

"Yet you were about to do just that. You pranced me around naked in front of the other bandits. You treated me like a piece of meat in the cell."

"Was I? Was this not your idea? Yes, I pranced you around, but it was for your benefit, trust me. They had to know what I planned. There were two of them in the cell, watching. I had to admit, though, you are hard to resist. Did you not have pleasure?"

"I…" Sille didn't know what to say.

The bandit leader dug in a wardrobe and pulled out an old dress and some soft shoes. "I can't get your armor and weapons back, but wear this so you don't escape naked, though that would be something I would be happy to see," he quipped.

Sille got dressed quickly and went to the door to leave before he stopped her. He turned her around, slipped a hand in her thick red hair, holding her close. "One more for the road," he whispered as he pressed his lips to hers, slipping his tongue in her mouth. She couldn't help but respond to him. The entire scene changed everything. That he was allowing her to escape took away any hatred she had for the man. 

He sucked on her bottom lip as he pulled away. "Lovely," he said.

He was still gripping her hair, which built the heat once more. She didn't think it was possible after two orgasms, but her body didn't seem to care. Neither did her hands, for that matter, as they reached to his face, fisting his hair in return, pulling him in for another kiss. 

"You need to leave," he said, though the tone of his voice conveyed reluctance in wanting her to leave.

"When do they wake up?"

"They are lazy bums, not for hours… but still."

The man was still naked, hard again as she quickly stripped down. He didn't ask why or pressure her to leave again, taking advantage of her willingness. Sille walked over to the bed and bent over like the last time, waggling her ass, showing that she was ready for him. He blew out a laugh and grasped her flesh with hands, working himself slowly inside her. She wrapped her hands behind her back, but this time she wasn't tied up. He grasped her wrists, knowing it was another invitation to thrust harder, faster. 

"Fuck, you feel good. Better… no… I'm shutting up now," he said.

He hit her in all the right spots, deep, hard, and fast—how she liked it. The heat built up once more, spreading like wildfire, readying her body for a third orgasm. Sille knew he was waiting on her because he wasn't giving her his all yet. As she came, screaming into his blankets, he pounded the shit out of her. Slamming his body against her, flesh slapping. The sound would have made her giggle had she not been weak with a third orgasm.

The man exploded, gritting his teeth as she groaned, with each thrust slower than the next until he toppled on top of her in exhaustion. "That was… fuck yeah."

Sille couldn't help but laugh. Just as abruptly, he stood and yanked her up. "It's been a while if you can't tell, but you have to go before I retake you, then you will never get to leave and be stuck with me. Though I'm not sure why I make that out to be a bad thing."

"Wait," she said and rushed to his table, scribbling on a piece of paper with quill and ink. She shook the paper dry, folded it, and handed it to him. Ignoring his confused face, she grasped his head for one more kiss and ran.

Sille made it home, but with empty pockets, no weapons, and no armor. She had some gold left to replace everything, but she wondered if it would be worth it. Perhaps beating crops into submission was the life for her. Other farmers did surprisingly well in Rorikstead. Not that farming couldn't be lucrative, but it was boring. Surely there was more to life out there for her, though being a mercenary probably wasn't the way to go. Perhaps an adventurer. She could explore ancient ruins, study the Dwemer. Yes, there were other things she could do. 

It had been a week since her encounter with the bandits. After returning from Whiterun, she made camp. Sille had to explain to them that mercenary work wasn't for her and that they could find someone else. Tonight was the night. It was the night she asked him to meet her near Dustman's Cairn. It was a last-minute thought at the time, and perhaps it was silly to think he would come to her. There was no loss to it anyway since she was on her way home anyway, but she was still hopeful. As the night drew on, she scoffed at herself for being like a stupid girl. The man was a bandit. So what if he was good in bed—that he let her go? Why did she think this was a good idea?

In resignation, she crawled into her tent for the night, but she didn't get the chance to sleep when she heard movement near her camp. Sille pulled out her dagger, readying herself for an attack. "Who's there! Show yourself!"

The man walked to her camp and kneeled by her fire, warming his hands. "You're the one who invited me here, remember."

A broad smile crept up her face when she saw his now-familiar smug face, but she knew he didn't mean it. His eyes grew wide as she jumped him, shoving him to the ground. Sille sat on his stomach, planting kisses on his face. "I didn't think you would come, bandit."

"And I told you, you are hard to resist."

"Do I keep calling you, bandit, or do you have a name?"

"Darling, you can call me whatever you want, but Kjor will do."

"I'm Sille."

"Well, Sille, I would very much like to taste you again."


	5. The Housecarl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Housecarl does more than protect the Dragonborn with sword alone. Sometimes she needs more than a shield and armor.
> 
> Also, if you have a Nexus account and have access to Supporter Images, my friend Yellowbird11 made an amazing visual for my Housecarl story. You really need to check it out [HERE](https://www.nexusmods.com/skyrimspecialedition/supporterimages/3480). The content is definitely NSFW.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Argis the Bulwark and Female Nord Dragonborn
> 
> The image of Argis is from my NPC overhaul for Markarth.

Her desk looked as if a storm blew through. Strewn books were open, others stacked on top of each other, threatening to topple over, scrolls piled, and spilled on the floor. Brynja moved to the dining table for more space to read and spread out more books and papers. She had been at it for hours. One finger trailed along the written lines as her chin rested on her hand, nibbling a fingernail. The furrowed brows left creases in between, a sign of stress. Her intelligent hazel-green eyes looked tired.

He watched her, worried about her overworking herself. Three times, Argis tried to get her to stop and rest, even for a moment, and each time she brushed him off, barely acknowledging him. 

Argis the Bulwark had only been in the Dragonborn's service, his Thane, for over a month. No, longer than that. She became Thane eight months ago but came to live at Vlindrel Hall in recent weeks. He tried to stay out of her hair while she worked, reading, researching something that seemed important, but he didn't know what. Not wanting to intrude, the Housecarl never asked her, figuring it wasn't his business. 

It was an honor to be the Housecarl of the Thane, the Dragonborn, but he itched—yearned—to get out there by her side to fight for glory and honor. It was boring sitting at home for months on end. At least he had a big city to explore. Then the day came when she moved in. 

Argis was eager to know what she was trying to find. Perhaps he could help her. "You've been at this for hours, my Thane. Is there anything I can do to help?" he asked.

"You can start by not calling me 'my Thane' any longer," Brynja said, not looking up while she jotted down some notes. "Please, call me Brynja. I'm Thane only in title, and I'm unimportant."

Argis begged to differ, but he didn't argue with her. The woman was now well-known throughout Skyrim, hunting dragons, clearing out most of the Forsworn. Now she was in the middle of trying to stop the black dragon from destroying their world, while negotiating a peace between the Imperials and the Stormcloaks, stopping the Civil War. It took an extraordinary person to achieve what she had and still trying to accomplish more. The Housecarl had the highest regard for his Thane.

Maybe she would at least eat. Argis set about making them dinner. It wasn't anything special. Only leftover beef stew, but it was decent. Argis bought a fresh loaf of bread that afternoon and some wine. She needed it. When he brought a bowl of stew over, he found her head was on the table, passed out, drowning in paper.

It wasn't the first time his Thane had fallen asleep while working, and he knew it wouldn't be the last. Argis put the food down on the table and went to the sleeping woman, lifting her up. He always chuckled in surprise at how dense she was. She was tall but thin. All that fighting left her with heavy muscles, and he strained a little as he carried her to bed. As one who used two-handed weapons, he was no lightweight either.

As the Housecarl laid his Thane on her bed, he knew it would be a matter of hours before she was up working again. He had seen it before with those in his care—people forced to work non-stop for others, never taking a moment for themselves. It could break a person he knew well enough. 

One would think a warrior such as his Thane would be hard and scarred, but she wasn't. She was a Nord through and through, but she had a delicacy about her. Class. Yes, class was a better word to describe her, yet Argis knew she came from humble origins, a farmer's daughter. Word spread like wildfire about how kind she was. If that wasn't enough, she was also beautiful. He stared at her for a moment as he always did when he brought her to bed, looking at her long dark hair spilling around her. Her biggest failing being a workaholic, not finding time for herself. It made her temperamental and irritable. Her controlling nature didn't allow others to help her. Maybe because she didn't want anyone to get hurt. Argis just assumed, only knowing her for a month.

Argis didn't care if she had any more work to do. No longer was he going to let her work through the night. She needed rest, food, and relaxation. His Thane would wake up in two hours, and he would be ready for her. His job wasn't just to protect her with a sword alone.

Sure enough, Brynja woke up two hours later. After a month, Argis had her figured out well, understanding her habits. The woman was going to get sick if she continued on her path.

When she came out of her room, she couldn't mask her flushed face. "I see you've brought me to bed once again. It wasn't necessary to do that."

"You can't sleep face down on the table… drool is getting all over your precious books."

A smile tugged at her mouth, her embarrassment washing away with his humor. "We can't have that."

Argis put a bowl of stew he reheated in front of her, moving the scrolls and books away, then poured her a chalice of her favorite wine. "Eat and drink."

"You're not my servant, Argis. I can handle feeding myself," she huffed.

"If I didn't feed you, you would wither away into dust. My job is to protect you, and that means keeping you healthy. Now eat."

He sat next to his Thane and ate his own meal. He could have eaten earlier, but he enjoyed eating with her. It was the social camaraderie he needed, even if they didn't talk that much. 

"Thank you," she said, relenting and shoving a spoonful of stew in her mouth.

After their meal, he cleared away the dishes, bringing them to the kitchen. When he returned, his Thane was back at it, nose in her books.

"No more reading," he ordered.

"Excuse me?" she huffed.

"You're done for the night. I know you are busy looking for something you won't tell me about, but everyone needs a break. Even the damned dragon wanting to fry us all must sleep and rest."

"I haven't found the answer I need yet."

"And you won't. Not tonight," he said, walking over and brazenly shutting the books.

Brynja's hazel eyes flashed in a fury, scrambling to reopen her books. "Hey! How dare you!" 

Argis grabbed her hands away. "I'm sorry, my Thane, but it's time you relaxed."

"Who are you to…"

He was still holding her hands to keep her from reaching for her books. "I have drawn you a bath. It is waiting for you. Go soak and think about something else other than… whatever it is you are trying to find. You will defeat no one or anything until you get some rest and relaxation."

Argis could almost see her mind in a debate with herself, that struggle between needing answers and wanting to soak. A bath did wonders for the body and mind. 

"Please, my Thane. Go soak in the bath I have drawn for you. It is still hot."

He let go of her hands, backing away to make sure she didn't rush to open her books again. When Brynja stood there, wrapping arms about her, he poured her another cup of wine, handing it to her. "Take this. Enjoy it while you bathe."

"Don't make me take you in there," he quipped when she wouldn't move.

Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. "You wouldn't dare?"

"Do you want to test me?"

She scoffed, but couldn't help but give him a small smile and headed to the bath like a good little Thane.

While she bathed, Argis went to his room, undressed, and crawled into bed to read. One would think he would be sick of seeing books, but this story he was reading was interesting, and it helped him fall asleep. 

After an hour, he could hear his Thane banging around. He wanted to check to make sure she wasn't researching again, but he couldn't hover over her. At least she had a nap earlier, ate, and a long soak in the tub. It was a start. 

The knock on his bedroom door startled him. His Thane never came to his room. Opening it, she stood there, unable to meet his eyes. Such shyness coming from someone who killed dragons for a living. She was in a dark blue, silky robe, something he never saw her wear. Leather armor or breeches and tunic tended to grace her body. The robe was delicate, feminine. 

"I… I'm sorry for the way I have been since I came to live here. I've haven't talked to you, brush you aside, so engrossed in what I'm doing. You work hard to take care of me, and I just wanted to tell you I appreciate it." Her eyes trailed along his bare chest, lingering for a moment before looking elsewhere, and ended up on his face.

"You are welcome, my Thane. It is my pleasure…"

Her contrite demeanor turned impatient and irritable once more. "Stop it! I have a fucking name!"

"I'm just trying to show you the respect you…"

Brynja stood close to him, angry. She was tall, but not as tall as he, having to look up. Yet she towered over him in other ways. "You want to respect me? Call me by my name!"

She was panting in her anger, but he knew it wasn't him she was furious with. It was her overworking and lack of answers. His Thane fought and strove for everyone else but herself, and he wondered if anyone cared about her in return. He cared if she let him.

"Brynja," he whispered, not surprised by the tears that threatened to spill out of her eyes when he said her name. Yes, she must be overwhelmed to get upset about something so small.

Argis knew right then what she needed, but he wondered if she would let him. The woman needed to relinquish control for a while. It would allow her to breathe, even for a moment. He could do that for her, take charge. It was a risk, but the only way to find out was to just do it. She could hate him, fire him, leave, but he had to try. His Thane needed to be fucked in the best possible way. It was crude; he knew well enough, but it was what she needed. 

As fast as a snake's strike, his hand slipped behind, grabbing her hair and pulling her close. He looked down on her, his eyes heated, watching her confused ones as they turned to clarity, yet she didn't move.

The Housecarl pressed his lips to hers, stiff and uncertain, but soon they softened to him. When they did, he slipped his tongue in her mouth pleased she responded, tongues wrapping, seeking, tasting, exploring. Then he yanked off her robe, leaving her bare before him. His calloused hand wasn't gentle as he gripped her breast, pinching a nipple just hard enough to hurt, but giving pleasure, his hand still fisted in her hair. Her gasping breath in his mouth told him enough. She liked it. Her not pushing him away was telling as well, which told him he read her correctly. It was his job to know her, but he too would get pleasure out of it.

"It's time for your punishment. I've had enough of your attitude," Argis said, his voice hoarse with lust. 

"Wait… what?"

Without giving her an explanation, he lifted her into his arms, sat on his bed, and flipped her over like she weighed nothing.

"Hey!"

He clasped her hands behind her back with one large hand, her ass exposed on his lap. She was in a position that it would be hard for her to get out of despite how strong she was. The first smack on her ass resulted in a yelp. "What are you…"  _ Smack. Smack _ . 

Before she could get too angry, he ran a gentle hand along her round ass, and he found her calming down. Now she understood what Argis was trying to do. The question was, would she let him continue? 

A finger slipped between the two mounds, trailing down towards her pussy. Just a touch here and there, getting wet for him. Yes, that was the way. She needed to let go. Let him do all the work. 

"I want…" Brynja tried to get up, squirming under his strong hands, and instead, he rewarded her with another smack, and then another, and another. Her ass was already turning red. "Hey!"  _ Smack _ . The next one was harder. The harder he spanked her, the more she squirmed under him. He knew she could feel his hard cock under her. Seeing her ass right there, he wanted to touch her everywhere, kiss her, but first, she had to let go of her control. 

"Alright, enough…"  _ Smack. Smack. _

Argis slipped a finger in her pussy, another grazing her clit. Her legs spread in response, which left him smiling. It was the way he wanted her to respond to him. "You need punishment and will continue to be so until you let go of all control. I am in charge, not you."

"Now wait a…" 

He didn't let his Thane finish before he spanked her again. His hand was stinging, her ass a bright red, but he continued. Soon Brynja's protests turned into moans, not sounds of pain, but of pleasure, especially when he rubbed her ass, playing with her hot, wet core. Yes, this was precisely what he wanted and what she needed.

"Are you ready to behave?" he asked. 

Argis smiled when she had to think about it before answering. She was debating on continuing as they were or finding out what else he had in store for her. Brynja nodded that she would behave. 

"Say it."

"I… I will be…"

"Be what, Brynja. What will you be?"

"I will… behave."

"Good girl."

He gave her one more extra hard smack on her ass as she yelped. Argis helped her up. She was a bit wobbly in her legs, but he lifted her again, planting her on his bed before changing her mind. When she was on her back, he ordered her to stay as he searched for something to cover her eyes. Yes, linen bandages were perfect. He returned to her, pleased she didn't move an inch. Her eyes were watchful, full of lust yet trepidation, curious what he planned for her next. 

Argis stripped off his smalls, his cock ready for her. But he would wait. Her eyes grew large, looking down between his legs then traveled up his body. Brynja looked at him as if she saw him for the first time. Perhaps she did. Other women found him pleasant to look at with his blonde hair and green eye, despite the one blind eye and scars running down the left side of his face from a sabre cat attack years ago. He hoped she found him attractive.

"Arms over your head," he ordered.

"Why…"

He stood, arms folded, eyes scolding as she withered under his stare. "I thought you were going to behave."

His Thane lifted her arms as he ordered so he could tie them. He wished he could tie her hands to something, but there was nothing other than a stone wall. He might have to remedy that. Next, he used a thick strip of cloth to blindfold her. There was no better way to relinquish control than giving herself wholly to him, uncertain what he would do next. She couldn't see what was coming, nor could she stop it, though he would if she asked.

Brynja was a beautiful sight lying on his bed, arms bound, unable to see. Her breathing was erratic in anticipation, lips swelled in lust—both of them. Legs shifted through the blanket as if she was uncertain she wanted to spread or close them. The longer he watched, the more she squirmed. To feel her under him left him yearning for her, but Argis had to remind himself it wasn't about him. He was trying to take her away from work—to let go of her stress and have some personal time.

He crawled between her legs on the bed and forced them apart with rough hands. She gasped, arching her back. Yes, she enjoyed letting go of her control, even if it was just for a moment. He hovered over her trembling body and pressed his lips to a nipple, gentle at first. His Thane rewarded him with a mewl and thrust of her breast for more. Teeth grazed her nipple, biting it just hard enough, then the other. 

Argis didn't trail delicate kisses down her body. No, he hovered over her, watching, seeing how much she could take before she called out for more. She may not have yelled out, but her legs said as much as they spread wider—an invitation. His face was so close to her wet pussy he could feel the heat coming from her. It radiated on his skin—that heat from pleasure. She smelled like her mountain flower soap and musk. 

"Please…" she begged, no longer barking at him, but whining, whimpering, making him smile.

"Please, what?"

"You will not make me say it, are you?"

"Hmm, yes, I think I will. Say it."

Despite her trepidation in telling him, she didn't hesitate. "Fuck me,… please."

Argis raised a brow in surprise. Yes, he wanted to fuck her, and she needed it, but he thought she would ask him to suck on her. "No. Not yet," he replied, smiling at her groan of disappointment.

His tongue must have felt like a jolt of lightning as her body shook and arched as he grazed it across her folds to her clit. Gods, she was wet. It trickled down to his covers underneath her, so he licked it up, savoring her. She spread her legs farther, wanting more of his mouth, moaning. If she wanted more, she would have it. He folded her legs back into her, spreading her more. That she was so exposed to him with want, unafraid in her vulnerability, pleased him she trusted him enough to do this for her. 

Brynja was getting close. He could sense it with her increased moans and movements under him, her core heating. Argis teased long enough and focused his full attention to her clit, inserting fingers in her pussy, hooking them. She stiffened her body, arching her back. A delayed groan escaped her lips as she released herself in her orgasm, pulsing around his fingers. He pushed her until she begged for him to stop. 

She laid on his bed, unmoving, relaxed, her breathing still erratic. He had her where he wanted her, not done with her yet. Now more pushing her out of her control. He lifted her upright bed's edge with force, spread her legs, and stood in front of her. Grabbing his cock, he trailed the tip on her lips, letting her know what he wanted. Brynja didn't hesitate as she opened her full lips to invite his hardness in her mouth. She was eager for him. His purpose wasn't to have her suck him off, only to let him maintain control over her as he fisted her hair and forced himself deeper into her mouth. When she couldn't take any more, he thrust slowly with rhythm. His Thane didn't just suck; she used her tongue and lips. She knew what she was doing. It felt too good, the heat building fast, and he had to stop. 

Brynja had a knowing smile on her lips, pleased with herself when he groaned and pulled out. Yes, it was her way to maintain some control, though Argis suspected she enjoyed it too. He couldn't let her control anything. Flipping her over on the bed, she shoved her down, ready to fuck her. 

"Do you want me inside?" he asked, not only to force her to answer but get her permission. He leaned down on top of her, mouth to her ear. "Do you want me to fuck you?"

"Yes…"

"Yes, what?"

"Yes… please… inside me! Fuck me!"

"As you wish, Brynja."

Argis spread her and worked his way into her until he was as far as he could go. He grasped her hips and stopped for a moment to get his bearings. She was tight, wet, warm—the feeling intense. He wondered when the last time she had sex. It must have been a long time. He took his time to work up his pace, not to come too fast, but it was hard with her firm muscles working around him. Brynja felt better than he imagined she would. Soon, his speed picked up, his thrusts pounding into her, enjoying her grunts and moans.

No, this wouldn't do. Pulling out, Argis almost laughed at her audible disappointment. "Wrap your arms around my neck," he said. When she did so, he told her to close her legs around his waist, which she did without question. 

Argis carried her over to the stone wall, pressing his body against hers to hold her up as he inserted himself once more. He knew the wall was cold against her skin, but it would warm up soon enough. He wanted to watch her as he fucked her and to kiss her. Thrusting once more, he pressed his lips to hers, seeking her tongue, moaning into her mouth. 

He trailed kisses along her face to her ear, slipping a tongue there that had her squeezing around his cock—tight. "You feel… so good."

Brynja held on for dear life as he pounded in her. He didn't want to take his time any longer, wanting to explode. His mind solely focused on the task at hand as the heat built and spread through his body. He pressed his face to her throat, giving her sloppy kisses through his heavy breathing, feeling the pressure build between his legs. The orgasm exploded as she took every bit of his pounding. Soon his thrusts slowed down as the numbness set in. 

She released her legs around him as he set her down on the ground, holding her up for a moment with her arms still wrapped around his neck. Argis gave her sweet and slow kisses on her face to wind them down. The moment of truth would be upon them soon enough. How awkward was it going to be between them once the euphoric high was over? 

"Are you OK?" he asked.

Brynja nibbled her bottom lip and nodded at him. Argis slipped off her arms around his neck and untied her hands. The blindfold was next. She blinked away the light and blurriness, then looked up at him as if deciding what to say. 

"Feel better?"

She nodded again, unable to find her voice. He bent down and grabbed her flung robe, helping her put it back on, then tied it around her waist. One more kiss on her cheek, mouth close to her ear. "If you ever get over your head again like that—if you become overwhelmed, I am always here for you, my Thane."

"Is it Thane again, now?" she croaked, her voice hoarse.

Argis tucked away hair behind her ear with tenderness. "It is Brynja in the bedroom, but you will always be my Thane outside of it.”

"So, um… this is something that can happen again, then?" she asked with uncertainty.

He gave her a smile and kissed her forehead. "It can happen as much as you like. Would you like that?"

Shyness arrived once more on her face as she looked down and nodded. Argis cupped her chin to lift her eyes to him. "There is no shame in it. Do you understand?"

Brynja nodded and gave him a warm smile. “You know, I’m heading to Winterhold in two days. It’s where my research led me. Do you want to tag along?”

“I’ve been waiting for weeks for you to ask.”

Brynja walked away but stopped herself, turning to face him. "Thank you, Argis. You are quite the Housecarl."

"You're welcome, my Thane."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! <3


	6. Primal Instincts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vilkas' worst realizations come true when he teaches the new werewolf, the Dovahkiin, how to hunt in beast form. It doesn't help that she's in heat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vilkas/Female Redguard Dovahkiin.
> 
> Zayya is a female preset I created and Vilkas is part of my Companions NPC overhauls.

_The hunt… glorious… fed. Blood filling, soothing. Tired… need to rest. Running and hunt tires. But sleep waits. Female is in heat. Sniffing female, circling. Want, desire, another kind of hunger. They hunt together, now female heats for him, the alpha male. Circling, sniffing, nipping. Bat paws at each other, run, chase. A mating dance. Female’s neck in mouth… hold her down. Female wiggles and resists, but she wants. The smell says female wants. Exposes and enters female, filling. She howls and fights. Maw still on her throat, teeth tighten, but no blood._

_The feel and pressure build. It tightens inside female. Stuck together until ready. Tighten on throat she pulls away but pushes back for more. Female needs to mate... needs to mate. Time passes. How long is unknown. Wait until ready. Seed spills… mating complete. Pull out and it is done… smelling seed inside her. Female still heats but mating done._

As they lay recovering from mating, both beasts wanted to scream in pain, but they bit it back. They clawed and wreathed on the ground. It was a familiar feeling, but it still hurt when they changed back from their werewolf form. Nothing to eased the pain as fur turned to skin, bone reset to human form. The only salvation was that it didn't take long before the change was complete. Perhaps if it was slower, it wouldn't hurt so much. Perhaps it would be worse.

Their breathing settled down, and their hearts, as they lay naked in the damp grass under the stars of the dark evening, covered in blood from the hunt. A dead elk lay beside them, eviscerated and devoured.

Vilkas looked over at Zayya, who was on her stomach, looking away. His keen werewolf's eyes were the only reason he could see her dark skin in such a blackened night, Masser and Secunda nowhere in the sky. A sense of humiliation and embarrassment slapped him. Flashes of memory hit his mind like a sledgehammer. They were fleeting and random since the memories were animalistic. The man already hated hunting as a werewolf, and to add to it, he mated with Zayya. No, he raped her. But did he? He remembered her heat. His animal mind sensed it. What did it mean? Zayya probably hated him now since she refused to look at him. 

"I… I'm… fuck. I'm so… sorry," he muttered. No words could express the guilt felt with what he did to her.

Zayya turned around. Her pale golden eyes—hawk's eyes—flashed, but in humor. Humor? A small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. "Do you know how long I have wanted you? I would have preferred we did that as humans, but I guess, in beast form will have to suffice," she said and laughed at the horror on his face. The woman was always laughing at him, teasing. It was infuriating. 

Vilkas narrowed his eyes in anger. "You jest, but this is serious. I didn't mean to mate with you. It… it was your smell."

"Maybe you are taking this too seriously. I cannot help wanting to mate with you. It's not my fault you let instinct take over. It's not your fault, either. We were just animals, Vilkas."

Zayya's face rested on her arms, still on her stomach, watching him. Her mouth turned to a frown as she looked away. "Do you not want me, then? Is that why you're so upset and angry? Then again, you are always angry… it's so hard to tell when you're angry or furious. It's rare to see a smile on your face."

"And you are always teasing me!"

"I'm trying to get you to lighten up. You still didn't answer my question. Do you not find me attractive? Do you not want me?" she asked, pulling herself over to Vilkas, who was still lying on his back.

He tensed as the Redguard approached. Vilkas found her more than attractive, and she was an impressive warrior. She was alluring. It was the fear of hurting her, not trusting himself in beast form around her, which he proved tonight. 

Zayya needed to hunt, and it was her first time. Kodlak told him to go with her and protect her. What did he do instead? He mated with her. Fuck.

The Redguard's face hovered over him, sadness in her eyes since he still didn't answer her question. Vilkas was too busy berating himself. Her face so close to his he could smell her—the blood from the kill, feel the heat from her skin as he stared into her bright eyes, eyes as bright as his. It was because of being a beast. The eyes reflected light to see in the dark.

A tentative hand reached up and pushed away hair that fell in her face. Her ebony hair was short but long enough to tuck away behind an ear, blood staining her face. Yes, he wanted her. The want was always there since the day she walked into Jorrvaskr, so full of confidence, a twinkle of humor always showing in her eyes. But now they were filled with sadness—his doing—more guilt to torment him.

"I like you well enough. Yes, I have wanted you, but I am afraid I will hurt you physically. I don't trust myself as a beast, and I have proven that tonight."

Zayya softened. "I told you that it was not your fault. I gave myself willingly… well, as much as a beast will allow."

The woman could change her moods faster than she wielded a blade. It was hard to keep up with, but her moods were always evident in her expressive face. Now it filled with lust as she scrambled on top of him, straddling his stomach. Vilkas could feel her slickness glide over his flesh. He moaned, not sure if it was pleasure or uncertainty.

She grabbed his wrists with force and pinned them down to the damp earth. Vilkas could easily escape, but he waited to see what she planned. He would be daft if he couldn't figure it out. Still, the doubts lingered but vanished as she pressed her lips to his. It was a small and innocent kiss, but she pulled away, biting his bottom lip, a mischievousness in her eyes. Then she kissed him again as if the first kiss was a simple taste. Zayya plunged her tongue into his mouth, deciding she wanted more. The kiss was passionate, and Vilkas couldn't help but respond. No, he wanted to respond to her. 

A kiss like that should arouse him, but they just mated. Like having sex in human form, it would take a while before he got hard again. Despite that, he wanted her as his barriers slipped away, accepting her mouth. Vilkas tried to pull his arms out to touch her, a driving need to hold her plump breasts in his hands, feel the soft flesh under his fingers, and pinch her hard nipples. Zayya wouldn't let him go, stronger than she looked, but he knew that. The woman could wield a great-sword with little effort. 

"I want to touch you," he said when her mouth pulled away. 

"And I want you to touch me," she said with a knowing smile. "I want you to lick me. I'm still in heat for you, and I need a release—a release only you can give."

"I want to taste you."

Zayya's smile broadened, showing white teeth in her pleasure. She let his wrists go, but when Vilkas tried to sit up to put her on her back, she stopped him, shaking her head. 

"No need to get up, my male... my mate," she said as she worked her body to straddle his face. 

Her pussy hovered over his face, smelling her musk, his keen nose smelling his seed when he spilled in her. The heat radiating from her was intoxicating. Vilkas slipped hands along her soft, yet muscular ass, pulling her close to his face as he ran a tongue through her folds, tasting her and him intermingled together, as if in another mate of their own. 

Zayya spread the folds of her flesh to expose herself to him as he dug deeper with his tongue, going back and forth from her pussy to her clit, lingering just enough to build up her heat, not make her come just yet. The woman was impatient as she moved her clit closer to his tongue each time he moved away. While she may be on top of him, he was under control when she came. He chose when she got to release.

Vilkas gripped her hips, moving, pulling, thrusting his tongue deep in her core as he loosened up and accepted her flesh and what they were doing. He ignored her pleas for more, doing it how he wanted to give her pleasure. The man would be lying if he said he never fantasized sucking on her, fucking her. 

The Redguard fell forward on her hands, pushing her clit into his mouth. Vilkas could feel the heat permeate on his face, building as she thrust—she was getting closer. The man focused on that little bundle of nerves that sent women over the top in pleasure—a pleasure that even he was envious of. Her moans rewarded him, pushing him to give her more. He took her clit in his mouth, twirling the tip of his tongue, focused now. Zayya's body froze as if shocked with lightning, reaching her peak, then relaxed as a resonant moan escaped her—low and throaty like a strangled animal. The wetness leaked onto his face as he lapped it away.

Vilkas could feel her body trembling with effort as she slid down his body, wet cunt, leaving slickness down his chest and stomach. Her fingers trailed down his face, brushing them on his lips as she kissed him with a passion she had not shown before. The woman was out of breath when she pulled away, eyes still heavy and glazed over from ecstasy.

"The things you do," she moaned.

Down, down, down, her body went until her face met with his cock. He lifted his head and shook it. It was useless now. Zayya cocked an eyebrow and a smile as if she knew something he didn't. She ran a gentle hand along his flaccid cock as he willed it into submission, but it was no use. Not yet—soon. Her hand glowed softly in the dark night, highlighting her beautiful features, making her eyes glow more while she watched him. Vilkas felt the heat coursing through his cock and outward to his entire body. He laid back and sighed, feeling aches he didn't even know he had wash away. There was a build-up of energy that was familiar, like drinking a stamina potion. The woman wasn't a strong spell caster in restoration magic, but she knew enough to heal small wounds, and, apparently, flaccid cocks.

When the spell stopped, he felt the chill in the air losing the warmth, but another sort of heat—a mouth surrounding him, a hand gripping the rest filled him. It didn't take long for the desire to grow as he hardened. 

"Watch, Vilkas."

The man did as he was told, sitting up on elbows to watch her, eyes on his, glowing in her excitement. Pushing her mouth as far as it would go around him was just a tease as she pulled him out, running a long tongue up, over and down his cock. Watching her savor him left him even harder—the gentle kisses along his hardened flesh, strangely sweet, as if in deference to him. 

Zayya's expressive eyes became animalistic, dilating. Vilkas knew she finished teasing. Her grip was firm as she swallowed his flesh, lips tight, waggling her tongue. He wanted to lie back and feel everything, but he couldn't take his eyes off of her as she watched his every reaction. Another long lick left him groaning for more, a shudder through his body as she pressed her tongue to his sensitive tip. The feeling culminated to his very core, his cock throbbing in pleasure. He was close... No, he didn't want to finish in her mouth.

Vilkas was on her before she could react as she landed on her back, kicking away her legs and plunged. There was no easing into it. He had to have her, that primal need he felt when all this started. This time he wasn't a beast… maybe he was, but he didn't care. 

The man's lips pressed to hers, yearning for her tongue as they did their own dance while he thrust. His hand grabbed a smooth breast, finally able to hold it. It's softness, yet rippling hardness of the nipple, pinching it as she groaned in his mouth. His movements were hard and fast, yet steady, holding back. He had to feel her wrapped around him longer. 

Zayya's nails trailed up his back, leaving scratch marks, reaching his hair, and fisting it as they devoured each other's mouths. Vilkas was too close and needed more distractions. Kissing her neck, moving down to suckle a nipple, biting it. The woman arched into him, wrapping muscular legs around his waist to pull him in deeper. His hand gripped her hair, yanking her head to the side to bite her neck, tasting the blood in his mouth which only drove him deeper, faster to near frenzied movements. She was his. Zayya belonged to no one but him. Now and forever. 

As Vilkas lapped up her blood, he exploded in her for the second time that night—once as a beast and then as a man. Their union was complete. 

A few last hard thrusts and he fell on her, unable to catch his breath. The two lovers lay unmoving, feeling each other's hearts beating against their chests as if they were one living creature. 

Vilkas finally rolled off of her, back on the cold wet grass, sending his skin into goosebumps. He planted hands to his face as the euphoria wore off, realizing what he had done in a moment's heat. Even though he wasn't in his beast form, that primal need to mark her overcame all sensibilities. 

"What have I done? This is why I cannot be trusted!" Zayya was now his, forever. Not that he didn't want her. It was that he took away her choice.

The Redguard sat up and gingerly touched her throat, healing the wound he left behind. "What does this mean, Vilkas?"

"I… fuck! I have… marked you in the heat of passion! Don't you see? You are mine now… forever!"

Vilkas stood to rush off to find their clothes stashed, but she pulled him back to her. "I am yours? Forever?"

He sat on his knees and looked down in shame, nodding. 

"And how is this a bad thing?" she asked.

Vilkas looked up in surprise, but he couldn't figure out if it was a relief at her reaction or frustration at her naivety. "It means you are stuck with me until the day we die. You will die without me and I will die without you."

Zayya dragged a gentle hand down his face, lifting his chin to look at her. "It is done, Vilkas. You worry, but I love you. I have been trying to reach you since I came to Jorrvaskr and we fought to test my mettle. It was glorious! I wanted to fuck you right in the courtyard then, but grew to love you from afar. I thought you hated me all this time, so I remained silent."

"You love me?" he asked, unable to conceal his surprise.

"Yes, for a long time."

"I'm not sure I deserve such feelings."

"Of course you do. You are just struggling. I see it every day." 

The Redguard sat up on her knees to face Vilkas, pulling him into her, holding him. "I know this is upsetting for you. It's strange for me, I will not lie. But I care for you and want more of this... what we did tonight."

"You don't hate me?" he asked. He had to ask. Vilkas had to be certain despite her words to ease his conscience.

"I do not hate you." Zayya stood up and offered her hand. When he grabbed it, she lifted him on his feet and pulled him into a hug once more, resting her head on his shoulder. "Can you deal with me for the rest of your life?"

Vilkas pretended to be lost in thought, thinking about the heavy burden it put on him. "You won't torment me with incessant teasings, will you?" Vilkas said it in a way that conveyed seriousness, but his eyes told her he was playing with her.

"Every day," she quipped.

"Then, I guess I will have to suffer you."

Zayya laughed and pecked his cheek. "Come on, my mate. Let's go home."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! <3 I would love to read what you think.


	7. The Glory of Battle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Balagol, a male Orc Dovahkiin relishes in the glory of battle. It arouses him killing off his enemies and dragons, so much so, he needs female warriors join him in battle death and glory, then in sex.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is absolutely NO plot here.
> 
> Male Orc Dragonborn/Rayya/Jordis
> 
> (Two chapters since this one is so short)

The smell of blood pumped his heart as adrenaline coursed through his body. He rolled out of the way as the dragon snapped at him with razor-like teeth larger than his hands. One bite and the Orc would lose a head. The return attack with his great-ax was swift, clipping the creature in the nose. As the dragon shook its head in pain, Balagol swung his ax into the beat's neck. The scream that came from the creature was teeth jarring, his pointed ears ringing. It was a glorious sound, pushing the Orc into a raging, killing frenzy.

The fire scorched Balagol's armor, shucking off the breastplate in two swift movements before his flesh became one with metal. Bare-chested, the Orc jumped over the swiping tail, slashing and hacking with his sharp blade. He could sense the dragon weakening, arrows protruding out of its thick hide. Blood was everywhere as Balagol nearly slipped in the reddened grass. Another angry snarl from the dragon and Orc. As he jumped away from the beast's sharp maw, Balagol couldn't get out of the way in time as the tail slammed into his chest. The Orc flew, landing hard against the mountain's side, the wind knocked out of him. There were a few broken ribs, but he pushed the pain aside.

Jordis and Rayya fired their arrows from afar, uninjured, while the Orc took the brunt of the creature's punishment. Shaking it off, Balagol wiped blood dripping down his chin with the back of a hand and ran, yelling. It was time for the beast to die. 

A body roll and jump, Balagol grasped thick scales and pulled himself up the body of the dragon. Despite its long neck, it couldn't reach the Orc to bite him off like an insect. Climbing, climbing, he reached the neck, straddling and holding on while the creature tried to shake him off. He threw his ax to the ground and pulled out his dagger while the women distracted the dragon with the arrows. Higher and higher, Balagol reached the beast's neck. Arms raised, dagger held firmly with two hands and plunged the blade into the base of the neck. Again. 

The splendid beast staggered and yawed. Before the dragon fell down to its death, Balagol jumped off and landed smoothly on the ground. He stood watching the women approach as the creature burst into flames, its soul entering his very being. It was warm, like Jordis, when her legs wrapped around his cock or Rayya sitting on his face. 

The Orc's green-tinted flesh was covered in dragon blood. What first drove him into a frenzy to kill now pushed him to something more primal. A glorious battle always hardened him. It was why he had only females traveling with him. It wasn't hard to get women to follow and do his bidding as the Dragonborn. Despite being an Orc, they lusted after his power. If he were any other Orc, most human females avoided him. The rule was, if they wanted to travel with him and save all of Tamriel, they had to do whatever he wanted. And what he wanted was to fuck. After every battle, he wanted it. Killing evil filth aroused him.

Rayya and Jordis knew what they were getting into when he removed his boots and stripped off his breeches, his large and hard cock bursting forth, free from its confines. He stood beside the dragon bones, waiting for their mouths, cunts, asses. It didn't matter as long as they fed his cock, giving it release from battle. His hand never satisfied—never enough.

The two Housecarls removed their armor and strode over to him as he pumped his shaft, a grin tugging at his tusked mouth. "Who wants to suck first?"

"I do, my Thane," said Rayya. The women weren't just there to fuck and suck him, but they were true warriors. Balagol would have no interest in them were they otherwise. 

"On your knees," he ordered.

She landed on her knees and grabbed his cock, giving it a tight squeeze the way he liked it. Neither woman could ever accept him wholly in their mouths. He was too big for that, but that didn't mean he didn't push them. The Orc grabbed her hair in a fist, pulling her into him. Her gagging sent shivers through his body. _Yes_. He let go of her just enough so she could breathe. As Rayya gasped for air, he plunged his cock in her mouth—deeper. 

Jordis didn't remain idle while Balagol was getting sucked off. She was on hands and knees, ass facing him as she rubbed her clit, inserting fingers into her pussy. To watch her as he was sucked fueled him. She had a fine ass—round and muscular. 

"You know what I want," he told Jordis.

The blonde Housecarl stood and walked back to their gear and pulled out the vial. It was a unique concoction to loosen anal muscles. The Orc was going to fuck her first. He loved her ass. It was smaller than Rayya's, and he loved to watch it stretch as he filled her. 

When Jordis was ready, he pulled out of Rayya's mouth, her lips swollen and red, eyes watering from the gagging. _Beautiful_. He brushed a thumb across her bottom lip in a rare and tender moment, wiping away some drool. 

The Orc stroked himself as Rayya took the vial and poured some oil down the crack of Jordis' ass. The Redguard inserted a finger, stretching the Nord woman, then another. It wasn't just to ready Jordis, but it pleased him to watch.

"Is she ready?"

"Yes, my Thane," she said.

"Spread yourself in front of Jordis. Jordis, you're in charge of pleasuring Rayya today as I fuck your ass.

"As you say, my Thane."

Balagol sunk to his knees, adrenaline still filling him, wanting to plunge into her ass, but he had to take his time. Seeing Rayya spread before him in all her glory, pussy wet for Jordis burned him with fire. The blonde bent down and licked the wet folds of the Redguard, her moans fueling as he pressed his tip into the tight hole. 

Jordis groaned in discomfort, but she would get used to it the deeper he went. He loved watching his cock move in and out of that puckered hole, watching it spread for him. His pace was steady as he pushed in and out of her, not fully hilted. 

Rayya spread her folds farther apart for Jordis and fell onto her back as the woman licked her. Balagol wished he could see it better, but he would make them do it again at home. Sometimes he just wanted to watch them together. Both women were gorgeous, but sometimes he wished he had an Orc female. They could take a lot more pounding.

The Orc was all the way in now, her ass spread nicely as he thrust in and out, in and out. The tightness around his cock almost sent him over the edge. Moans were coming from both women now as Balagol focused on his cock pumping in and out of Jordis' ass. _Faster_. The heat built inside him, spreading, then congregating between his legs, watching the women, envisioning the recent battle. 

He gripped her ass's flesh, then smacked it, pulling her in as he penetrated, deeper, harder, faster. Jordis' moans echoed off the cliff walls into the valley below, which only fueled him. Rayya was close, spreading her legs as far as they would go to accept Jordis' tongue. 

Rayya's orgasm ripped through her as she screamed out. Fuck, he loved that sound. There was no sound better than a woman's pleasures… well, that and the death roar of a dragon. They were both sexually enticing. His movements were driven, fast—so close. The Redguard reached between Jordis' legs, stroking her. _Yes, she knows what I like_. 

The heat was too much as it sent out the explosion, coming inside her ass, filling her. Balagol roared in pleasure, the sound echoing back to him as if wanting the world to hear his joy. The Orc pulled out and fell unceremoniously on his ass as Jordis fell forward, seed spilling out of her. _Glorious!_

Standing, he walked over to Jordis and gripped her by the hair, throwing her onto her back. Her reward for her wonderful ass as his tongue. He spread her folds with steely determination, shoving his tongue in her wet cunt, tasting her. Balagol made quick work of the woman's pussy, flicking his tongue on her clit, which sent trembling shivers through her body. The blonde fisted his black hair, yanking his face closer to her as he devoured her flesh. Finally, Jordis got her turn to scream out in pleasure and hear her own voice echo through the land. 

Balagol stood, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and walked back to their camp, the woman close behind, picking up his armor and theirs. 

"You all sick of fucking yet?" he chuckled. "There is another dragon over in Falkreath that we need to kill. Of course, there are bandits, Forsworn, Falmer…"

"Never," they both said in unison.

"Good!" he said, grabbing Rayya by the hair and pulling her face to his as he kissed her. Then it was Jordis' turn. "I'm glad to hear that. You two are excellent Housecarls."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	8. Two Thieves in the Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brynjolf royally messed up, well, according to Raven, his Dunmer girl. Now he has to find a way to get her back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brynjolf/Female Dunmer
> 
> The picture of Brynjolf is from my Thieves Guild NPC

The pain nearly blinded him, seeing stars before his eyes. When he shook it off, his eyes opened to see another object headed his way, ducking. The second boot narrowly missed his head. His eyes widened in fear and disappointment, seeing her throw his favorite goblet, shattering on the stone wall.

“Dammit, lass! Stop throwing things! I liked that cup!”

“Fuck you!” the Dunmer yelled, throwing a stale piece of bread, hard as a rock.

“Did you just throw… bread at me!” The elf had a powerful throwing arm, Brynjolf had to admit.

“If you’d hold still long enough, it would hurt!”

“Look, I know you’re mad…” he said, ducking. “Can you calm down so we can talk, lass?”

“Why should I talk to you? You left me fucking high and dry! I spent three days in that fucking jail cell!”

“Three days is nothing. I spent…” _Shit, not his prized golden ship_. Brynjolf went through a lot of trouble to get it. He raised his hands in defense, ambling toward the crazed Mer. “Don’t you do it… You know I love that ship. Lass… Please.” 

The man sighed in relief, hand to his heart when Raven put the ship down, inching closer to her. Then an apple flew, bouncing off his head. “That hurt! Stop!”

Raven picked up the ship again—a warning. She was beyond furious. Brynjolf left her high and dry on that job. They traveled together to Whiterun, and he was supposed to meet her there, but he never showed up. She went looking for him, only to find he was at the Bannered Mare talking to some woman. They were sitting too close together for it to be anything other than intimate. Not only was he supposed to work the job with her, but they had been in a relationship for over a year. How could he do that to her? She thought he loved her. When she left the Bannered Mare, the guards recognized her and hauled her off to jail. Raven, distracted in her ire, realized they saw her coming out of the house she robbed.

Then her anger washed away, replaced by bitter sadness, and Raven could feel the tears threaten. He didn’t deserve her tears. She put the ship down, blowing past him to leave his room and get drunk at the Ragged Flagon. No, she needed to get out of the Cistern altogether. The Bee and Barb would be better. But Brynjolf grabbed her before she could leave. 

“Wait, lass…”

“Let me go.”

But Brynjolf didn’t let her go. He pulled her close to him and tucked away some of her hair. “I know you are angry. I have a good—”

“What? Reason?” Raven twisted out of his grasp and locked his arm behind his back in one fluid movement. “You don’t have a good enough reason for leaving me high and dry, then cheating.”

 _Cheating?_ Where did she get that idea? “Lass, I never—”

“Fuck you, Bryn. I’m gone, and we are over.”

Raven stormed out of the Cistern and headed to the Tavern to get drunk. Perhaps someone would be good enough to look at to fuck. Yes, revenge sex sounds precisely like something she needed. But there were only the usual losers when she entered the inn—no one new and exciting to look at. 

“Get me a Velvet Lechance, Talen-Jei, and keep them coming,” she ordered.

“You got it,” he said.

When the Argonian came back, he opened the bottle and poured it into a clean flagon. “Rough day?” he asked.

“You could say that.”

“I’ve got an ear if you want to talk.”

Raven managed to give him a smile, though she didn’t feel it. “You’re the best, Talen-Jei, but I… I don’t feel like chatting.”

“Are you sure? I’ve been known to be helpful now, and then, just don’t tell Keerava. She would just deny it and tell you how useless I am,” he chuckled.

She laughed along with him, but more out of politeness. Talen-Jei and Keerava finally made their way into each other’s lives, with a bit of help from Raven. They were a wonderful couple and very much in love. “It’s Brynjolf. He… he cheated on me.”

“You have got to be kidding. You all have been an item for how long now? A year? Why now? I’m so sorry, Raven. If you need me to break his arm, I will.”

“I might hold you to that. For now, I just want to wallow in my misery,” she said, taking a long, gulping sip of her drink.

“You’re a great girl. I’m sure he will see the error of his ways when he knows he doesn’t have you anymore.”

“Screw him. I don’t care if he realizes what he has lost or not.”

“Good for you. You deserve better. Another?”

Raven nodded and finished her drink. Talen-Jei brought her another drink and left her to stew in her misery to serve other customers. She sat at her table, people watching, trying not to think about Brynjolf. Not only did he lose her, but she lost him. Once she was past her anger, a sob almost escaped her. _Not here_. She was more than hurt. How was she going to work with him after all this? Raven would worry about it tomorrow. Tonight was about getting drunk.

After her fourth Velvet Lechance, she was feeling the warmth spread through her body from the alcohol. It was a potent drink, and exactly what she needed. At least her thoughts were muddled enough that she wasn’t solely focused on Brynjolf, but she was restless. Boredom crept in, and she was tired of staring at the same faces, but she didn’t move. 

Raven heard the door open and looked up to see the familiar redhead and handsome face. _Fuck!_ Why couldn’t he leave her alone? She should have known he wouldn’t walk away. If Brynjolf wanted something, he didn’t give up easily to get it. Stubborn to the core. Her eyes darted away when he caught sight of her, shrinking away to make herself smaller. Maybe he didn’t notice her. 

Nope, he noticed as she sensed him sitting down next to her, too close. She wanted to scoot away, but she was already pressed against the wall. “Go away.”

“No, lass. Come on. Let’s go somewhere and talk this out.”

“Fuck you.”

“Yes, you’ve said already,” he said, inching closer, his face next to hers. 

Raven could feel his breath in her ear, making her melt. She loved his smell as she inhaled. It was a combination of leather, male musk, and juniper. _Dammit, he knew she loved his scent. He’s doing this on purpose!_

“It’s you I would like to fuck.”

She felt the burning between her legs at his words. Gods, he knew how to stir up the heat in her. “Leave me alone,” she muttered, but with less force.

“No. We need to talk, lass. I have lovely bruises on my head from the boot and apple. The least you can do is hear me out.”

Raven shoved him away, eyes watering, lip quivering. “You deserved more!”

“Is everything alright?” Talen-Jei asked, seeing Raven upset with Brynjolf’s arrival.

She nodded. “It’s fine, Talen-Jei. Thanks.”

“Let me know if you need anything, like a broken arm.”

Brynjolf chuckled at the Argonian as if he could break his arm. “No broken arms needed. I promise to behave, Talen-Jei.”

“Lass… Raven. I’m sorry I didn’t show at the job. I had a good reason—”

“Oh, I know your reason was good. That blonde I saw you with was quite beautiful.”

He had to distract her from the pain so she would stop interrupting him—knock her off balance. Brynjolf had to explain to her what really happened. He would never cheat on her, and she had to know that. But he couldn’t tell her anything in her anger and pain. 

Warm lips pressed against her cheek, taking a deep breath of his skin, so masculine. Raven whimpered from pain and lust as a hand trailed between her thighs. A tear slipped. It hurt so much. Brynjolf always knew how to get her aroused, lusting for him. Her face flushed from the alcohol and desire. She wanted to push him away, but he had her melted in the palm of his hand. She was always like butter around him. The drink did little to control her want.

“I love you. I would never cheat on you, lass,” he said at last.

For the first time, doubt filled her, but she remembered. Raven saw him sitting close to the blonde, drinking together. The woman was smiling, batting her fucking eyelashes at him. He always did love the ladies. Their faces were close together—too close. The scene was intimate, leaving no doubt of his intentions. Perhaps he didn’t fuck the woman, but he planned to while she was busy working for the Guild. Brynjolf abandoned her on the job so he could get cozy with the blonde. _No, he’s a cheater and a liar._

“Well, you could have fooled me! I know intimacy when I see it!” she spat, trying to push him away, but Brynjolf persisted as a hand slipped in her long dark hair, cupping the back of her head, his face pressed to hers. 

Her breath caught in her throat as his hand went to her hair. Brynjolf knew he was distracting her from her anger, knowing what she liked, what made her tick, and heat for him. She melted into him as his hand reached higher between her thighs. His tongue slipped and touched her ear, smiling when he heard her moan.

“I know what it looked like, but there was a reason behind it, and it wasn’t because I wanted her or to cheat on you,” he explained, pressing gentle kisses on her face as he slipped out the item from his jacket, placing it on the table. “I had to work my magic to get a good deal on this. I am sorry I left you behind. I didn’t know you were going to get caught. I thought you could handle the job just fine on your own, lass, while I got that. I was trying to surprise you.”

Raven looked at the table with reluctance. She wanted to be angry, but he was weakening her resolve. He was doing it on purpose to distract her; she knew well enough, but between the alcohol and his touches, it was impossible to keep him away. She looked at the table to find a beautiful ring, silver with a ruby in the middle. It was beautiful. Did he buy that for her when she thought he was cheating?

“The woman was trying to charge me too much, and I had to work her to get the price down, not that you aren’t worth it. It’s the principle, you understand. She is nothing to me other than a vendor. Look, I know you, and I aren’t the marriage type, but I… I wanted to make a promise to you—a promise I will remain at your side and always love you.”

Raven broke. The dam burst open, and all her anger washed away in a flood of tears. As the tears rained down, Brynjolf took the ring from her hand and put it on her finger. Of course, it was a perfect fit. Why wouldn’t it be? The silver looked good on her dark skin, the ruby matching her eyes. It was intentional.

“I’m sorry I left you behind, lass. I should have chosen another time, but the woman didn’t give me many options to meet with her. Had I known you would get caught, I wouldn’t have done it. I love you. I would never cheat on you.”

Brynjolf reached a hand to her face, wiped away some tears, and lifted her chin to him, pressing his lips to hers. It was soft, tender. 

Raven’s eyes finally reached his green ones, usually full of mischief and humor. Now his eyes were concerned. 

“Do you forgive me?” he asked.

All she could do was nod, reaching up to cast a spell on his face, healing his lumps and bruises. “I… I shouldn’t have doubted you.”

“It’s fine, lass. I can see how it would look through your eyes. Were the roles reversed, I would be worried too.” 

Brynjolf’s hand returned between her thighs, warm, hand tightening on her hair as he pressed his lips to hers. She wasn’t just tipsy from her drink but drunk from his smell, his touch. It left her dizzy with need. Goosebumps kissed her skin in anticipation of other touches she knew were soon to come. Raven wrapped her tongue around his, her hand reaching up to grasp his thick red hair—

A cough startled them. “Is everything OK, Raven?” Talen-Jei asked, wondering why she was kissing the man who cheated on her. 

Her smile was sheepish, her skin flushing with heat. “Yes, sorry. I… I was mistaken. I was wrong,” she said, holding out her ring to show the Argonian who was trying to protect her.

“I am afraid I made a right mess out of things, Talen-Jei. I handled a situation poorly, but it was only done out of love, I assure you. You worry about our girl here, and I appreciate that,” Brynjolf said, not taking offense.

“Are you sure you’re OK, Raven?”

“Yes, thank you.”

When the Argonian left, Brynjolf was back in her ear. “Where were we?”

But Raven shoved him away, climbed over him to get away. He sighed in frustration. Brynjolf hoped he reached her, and she forgave him. He stood to go after her, but to his surprise, she slammed some gold on the counter and yelled to Keerava that she needed a room, and fast. The Dunmer raced back, grabbed his hand, and marched him up the stairs to a rented room. He couldn’t hold back the broad smile that planted on his face.

She had to have him. There was no waiting to go back to their room in the Cistern. It had to be now. Once the door was shut, Raven shoved him against the wall, hands blindly scrambling over leather buckles as their mouths hungered and devoured. 

“Dammit!” she yelled, pushing off him because she couldn’t get his straps undone. She cursed, unbuckling her own leather jacket in a rush. It was too fast, struggling. “Come on… off, damn you!” When she shrugged the jacket off, then her tunic, she hopped around, pulling off a boot, falling on her ass. “Ugh!”

Brynjolf was just as impatient as he removed his own leather and clothes, done before her, trying not to laugh as she struggled to get the other boot off. Her top half was naked, breasts bouncing around in her movements, but still wearing breeches. 

Raven stopped what she was doing, seeing him stand naked before her, fully erect, waiting for her. She was only half undressed when she scrambled on her knees, starving for him. The woman loved his cock. It was a perfect size, smooth skin, just enough red hair gracing his flesh. Cupping his balls, she grabbed him. Her desperation turned into want, slowing down to give him the attention he deserved. She held his cock with tenderness, pressing gentle kisses along the smooth flesh, twitching in her hand. 

Brynjolf moaned as she ran her tongue from the base to the tip of his shaft. He always loved the way she took her time, enjoying him instead of rushing through it. She was eager to be fucked, but she never rushed, sucking him off. A hiss escaped his lips. Fingers tangled in her hair when she took him in her mouth, warm and wet. He watched her through blurred, lust-filled eyes, sitting between his legs as if in deference. 

He threw his head back at feeling her swallow all of him. It wasn’t easy to do, but she was good at it. His heart raced as the heat filled his body, moving in waves down to his cock. “Gods, I love your mouth…” he whispered. A strangled groan escaped him when she moaned while swallowing him whole.

No, watch her. Fingers curled in thick, dark hair as she moved faster, grasping his cock tightly with a hand, gently squeezing his balls with the other. Her tongue flicked and swirled at the slit, his body shuddering. He was close… too close. Brynjolf yanked his cock out of her mouth. Raven looked up, lips beautifully swollen, eyes glazed over in a combination of lust and confusion. He grazed a thumb over her full bottom lip. 

He needed her now, grabbing her arm with force, and tossed her on the bed, undoing her breeches, and yanking them off. Next went her smalls. 

“On your knees,” he ordered.

Raven scrambled to her knees. She knew what he wanted, her body trembling in anticipation, wetness filling her pussy. With her face in the pillow, she lifted her ass in the air. Brynjolf was in a fucking mood, as was she. Tonight would be about a forceful type of lust. He always got that way when he hungered for her body like a man starved. 

But he didn’t just enter her as she felt fingers poking and prodding her pussy, spreading her wetness. His hands spread across the flesh of her ass, so gentle, then the resounding smack followed by a stinging sensation, but she held firm to take what he gave her. 

“That’s for doubting me,” he said, his voice thick with want, whispering it in her ear.

Another smack, and another. “That’s for the boot and apple to the head.”

A moan escaped her lips in pain and pleasure. His fingers brushed her clit, sending shivers through her, but withdrew, smacking her again. “That’s for breaking my favorite goblet.”

A series of spanks had her reeling in need, her ass burning, but she held and took all he had to give. She squirmed her ass back, wanting him to fuck her, needing his cock to fill her. More smacks. “That’s for thinking I would cheat on you.” 

Hands slid over her skin, gentle, a contrast to the stinging spanks he gave her. His lips pressed to her ass as if kissing away the pain. Finally, she got what she wanted as he filled her. It was tight, thick, and warm. Raven cried out in relief. 

“You’re so tight…” he said, then gasped as she tightened her muscles around him. “Fuck…”

Another smack made her stop. Brynjolf was slow and methodical, but deep and hard as he slammed into her. Each time he hit that spot she loved, her body quaked with need, a need to move faster, harder. It was the only way, but he was infuriatingly slow. Raven pushed back against him, rewarded with another spank for it, then two. He was in control. Only he had a say when they came. 

When Brynjolf fisted her hair, pulling her head back. Raven knew he was about to pound into her, but he held back. 

“Pl… please,” she begged. “Fu… fuck me.”

 _Smack._ “Touch yourself,” he said. “Make yourself come for me as I pound in you.”

Her hand reached under and between her legs. Brynjolf was excellent at making her come, but no one was faster than she was, knowing her body the most. Fingers swirl through her wetness on her clit as he thrust in and out, slamming his cock into her. The heat and pressure spread like fuel to a fire, spreading as she exploded, rubbing herself in fury as he pushed his cock into her fast and deep, hard. The ripples of spasmodic nerves and muscles spread out through her body until she couldn’t take anymore. Dropping her hand, she was weak and numb as she let him have his way with her. 

Brynjolf hissed, feeling her contract around him, so tight. The pulsing sensation made him burn for her. He held on, pushing himself to the brink. She was slick with wetness, more so after she came, allowing him to glide with little resistance. His eyes slammed shut as the pressure built between his legs, letting go of her hair and fisted the flesh of her ass. It was hot, sweat dripping from his temples. There it was, one last thrust, and he came, spilling into her. Another hard thrust and another, slower, harder until he was spent. 

Both of them collapsed on the bed, out of breath, hearts pounding. Brynjolf struggled upright towards her as Raven lay there fetally, eyes closed. He laid on his back, lifting her to him as she rested her head on his chest. He grabbed one of her hands, tangling his fingers in hers, kissing her head.

“Are you OK,” he asked.

“Barely,” she mumbled in his chest. “By Azura, you feel amazing.” Raven nuzzled her face in his neck, needing to smell him, her favorite scent now intermingled with sex. She could inhale him all day. It was her elixir.

With reluctance, not wanting to leave the comforts of his neck, she sat up on an elbow to look at him. Her hand untangled from his and reached for his face, pulling him to look at her. “I’m so sorry I doubted you, Bryn. I… I should have known better. I just love you so much, and when I saw you with her…”

“Shh, it’s OK, lass. I would feel the same if I were in your shoes.”

“True, but you wouldn’t have thrown said shoe at my head.”

Brynjolf burst out in a laugh. “True enough. It’s OK. I’m just glad my beloved ship is still intact, as atrocious as it is.”

“I was angry, but not that angry.”

“That’s quite the temper you have, lass. Remind me not to get on your dangerous side again,” he chuckled.

“I am made from the fires of the Red Mountain, after all,” she said, pressing her lips to his.

“Fiery, indeed. It’s why I love you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I would love to hear from you.


	9. Get Over It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poor Farkas lost his girlfriend to her cheating ways. He stewed in sadness for so long, Vilkas tired of it, determined to bring his brother back into the light. His plan was simple. Take Farkas drinking with friends... a couple of lovely ladies...

Farkas was in his room, locked away, reading a book as he did each night for over a month. The only time he came out was to grab food to bring back to his room or leave for a job. Not even his brother could reach him. All he wanted was to be left alone, stewing in his misery, missing her despite what she did to him.

Ending things with Gilda was the worst experience in his life, but it had to be done. If he didn’t, she would walk all over him. Despite his kindness, he was no one’s doormat. But Gods, did it kill him. Farkas never understood why she cheated on him. He thought he was good to her, treated her like a queen as she deserved, or so he thought. Perhaps he was a doormat.

That fateful night, he walked to her place, letting himself in with the key she gave him. They didn’t share the place but were together over a year. Gilda told him to come over whenever he wanted, and he did. As soon as he walked in the door, he could hear her moans. He smiled thinking she was masturbating, pleasuring herself, eager to watch. But then came the sounds of a man and his stomach dropped and heart stopped. Farkas never wanted to feel that again. 

Up, up he reached the top of the stairs, to her room. He opened the door and a man’s face was between Gilda’s legs. Sometimes he wondered if she did it on purpose because she was too cowardly to end things. Either way, it hurt. It hurt a lot. Farkas loved her and planned to ask her to marry him. Thank Ysmir, he didn’t buy the ring yet. 

Gilda begged and pleaded with him. Lies. He left her, ended things as a man should in such situations. For the next week, she hounded him, wanting to tell her side of things. Why should he allow that? She didn’t have the courtesy to respect him enough to end things and chose to fuck someone else. What possible answer could she have to make the situation better? There was none, so he ignored her and she eventually gave up. Even better, she moved out of town, not caring where she went as long as it was out of his life.

But he ached. Farkas couldn’t help but grieve for his loss. It wasn’t an easy thing for him to give his heart to someone and Gilda trampled on it. 

He wasn’t even reading the book he was holding, tossing it in the corner in frustration. It’s been over a month and he still wasn’t over it, wondering when the pain would lessen and he could move on with his life.

The knock startled him out of his anger and misery.

“Go away!” he yelled.

“No. Not until you open this door, brother,” Vilkas said, knocking again.

Farkas sat in his chair, unmoving. Why couldn’t people leave him alone? Everyone was always pestering him, trying to help him get over Gilda. He would get over in his own time, thank you very much.

“You know I can open this door myself, so you might as well open it. I’m getting in there one way or another.”

The Companion growled, irritated, and opened the door, sitting back in his chair. “There, it’s open. Happy?”

“Nope, I’m not happy and neither are you. Come on, we are going out.”

“No, I’m not going anywhere.”

“Oh, yes you are, shield-brother,” said Athis who forced his way into his room.

Torvar walked in next. “Yep, you’re coming with us whether you like it or not.” The redhead stormed over to Farkas’ drawers, pulling out a clean tunic and some breeches. “Put those on.”

“I told you—”

Vilkas rested a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, brother, but it’s time for tough love. Get cleaned up and dressed or the three of us are going to drag you to the bath and bathe you ourselves. Trust me when I tell you, I do _not_ want to see you naked.”

“None of us do,” said the Dunmer.

Farkas was too polite to name call, but a string of curses coursed through his head. “Fine,” he said with gritted teeth, snatching his clothes from Torvar, stomping off.

After his bath, he returned to his room. He had to admit the hot waters soothed him, and he was ripe. Now he smelled good, but he still didn’t want to go out. He hoped they were all gone and he could get back to wallowing, but Farkas had no such luck. All three men sat in his room, waiting.

“Ah! You look much better,” Vilkas said. “You smell better too.”

Farkas narrowed his eyes at his brother but ignored his comment. “Let’s get this over with.”

The Bannered Mare was packed that evening, but Vilkas paid ahead to reserve a table for the four men. Vilkas walked off to order drinks since the wench was busy, eager to get the drinking started. 

After a few drinks, Farkas was finally starting to loosen up. Vilkas, Athis, and Torvar talked, laughed, told stories while he remained quiet, but at least he wasn’t brooding. He wondered when the tables turned. It was Vilkas who was the brooder. Farkas was more amicable and fun. It didn’t matter. He supposed he should thank his brother for getting him out of the house, but then Vilkas would just rub it in his face as it was his way.

“Brother, is that a smile on your face?” Vilkas asked, punching him in the arm.

“Never,” Farkas said, but couldn’t help the small smile that tugged on his mouth.

“It’s about fucking time,” Athis said. “I was wondering how drunk we had to get before you relaxed.”

Torvar scoffed. “Speak for yourself. I’m not nearly drunk enough. I can still say my words.”

“You buy the next round,” Vilkas ordered.

“Why do I have to buy? This was your idea. I was content in my room reading.”

“You weren’t reading and far from content. I’m buying. I just don’t feel like getting up.” 

Vilkas slammed some gold on the table and Farkas picked it up, lumbering over to the bar. It was crowded, and he had to wait in line for his turn. Too bad Saadia was busy, otherwise, he wouldn’t have to get up. The alcohol was giving him a light buzz, but not too bad since he was steady on his feet.

As he was waiting, he felt someone bump into him, then hands roving up his back. No, not someone—more than one person. Looking down, he saw a beautiful blonde Nord woman on his right smiling up at him. Then he looked to his left and another blonde Nord on his left. She was no less gorgeous. 

“Hello, big guy,” said blonde on the right.

“I haven’t seen you around,” said blonde on the left.

“Ladies,” Farkas greeted and moved up in line, oblivious.

“Let me guess, you have one of those big great-axes, don’t you. Can I feel your muscle?” Blonde on the left didn’t wait for a response before she ran her hand along his bicep, squeezing it. “My, hard as a rock. I like hard weapons.”

Weapons were something Farkas loved to talk about. “I use a great-sword actually. My favorite weapon. It’s powerful and can crush my enemies faster than an ax.”

“Indeed. I can tell your sword is long and heavy. Just the way I like them,” said blonde on the right. 

“Yep, I won’t use anything else.” Still oblivious.

Vilkas and company could overhear the conversation. He slapped his forehead at his brother’s stupidity. Couldn’t the man tell these women wanted him? All the while, Athis, and Torvar guffawed watching Farkas talk about swords when the women were talking about something else entirely.

It was finally Farkas’ turn to order drinks. At least he had the decency to pay for the women’s drinks as well. “Well, great talkin’ to ya,” he said, walking back to the table.

“Shor's ass, you’re a fucking idiot,” Vilkas blurted.

“What? No need to be nasty.”

“Those women wanted you. Could you not tell?”

“Who, those blondes? Nah, they wanted to know what weapon I used.”

Athis and Torvar cracked up again. “Shield-brother, they were not talking about weapons, well not the kind you’re thinking of. They were talking about… you know,” Athis said, wiping away tears, pointing between his legs.

“What? Really?”

Vilkas groaned into his hand. He, Athis, and Torvar paid good money for those girls and his brother thought they were talking about actual swords. At least he bought them drinks. 

“Yes, really! By Ysmir, Farkas…” Vilkas said, shaking his head. It was hard to believe sometimes they both came from the same womb.

The two blondes were sitting in a corner, sipping their drinks watching when Vilkas eyed them over subtle enough so Farkas didn’t notice. But at this point, It would take a frying pan to the face for his brother to get a clue. His brother wasn’t really an idiot, he just didn’t have a lot of experience with the ladies, and innuendo went right over his head.

The two women sauntered over to their table, flanking Farkas again on either side of him, each had a hand on his broad shoulders. “Hello, boys,” said blonde on the right.

“Ladies,” said Vilkas, nodding in respect. 

“We have come to steal your friend here,” said blonde on the left.

“What do you mean steal me?”

“Do you not like us?” pouted blonde on the right.

“Are we not pretty enough?” blonde on the left said, playing along.

Farkas looked up at each of them, really taking notice. “You’re both gorgeous. I’m Farkas.”

“I’m Runa, Farkas, and this here is Rutah.”

“You two twins? My brother there and I are twins.”

The two women giggled. “No, we are not twins. We aren’t even related, but you’re not the first to say so,” said Runa.

Rutah, sat on Farkas's lap, giving him a clear view of her abundant cleavage, running a hand through his dark hair, mussing it up. “You’re very handsome,” she said.

Runa also ran a hand through his hair, reaching to the table to grab his drink, handing it to him. “Drink up, big guy. We have plans for you.”

“No, I…”

Rutah put a long-nailed finger to his lips. “Shh, we really like you, Farkas. Surely you find us attractive enough. If you say no, you might hurt our feelings.”

“I don’t want to do that. But I…”

Rutah pressed her lips to Farkas’ mouth, kissing him. He was resistant at first, afraid to get involved with other women after Gilda. A soon as he loosened his lips, her tongue took advantage, swirling in his mouth. He couldn’t help but groan, missing being kissed. 

“I don’t know,” he said, still uncertain, looking over at his brother who was eyeing him closely.

“Don’t look at me, brother. I don’t want to kiss you.”

“No shit, Vil. I… I…” Farkas couldn’t get it out. 

“Don’t think about that bitch. I think they just want sex, not to marry you. Go have some fun for a fucking change. Have some sex and don’t worry about the afterwards.”

The biggest problem was Farkas was not Vilkas. Perhaps that was a good thing. His brother could fuck woman and frequently did. Farkas was more discerning, but perhaps his brother was right. What’s wrong with a little fun now and again. Runa and Rutah _were_ beautiful.

As if sensing his internal debate, leaning towards sex, the woman looked at him doe-eyes, lips pouting, begging.

“I can’t say no to faces like that.”

“Fuck, finally…” muttered Vilkas as Athis and Torvar sniggered.

“Have fun,” Farkas’ shield-brothers shouted out as he went up to a room with Runa and Rutah.

“I’ve never been with two women before,” he said when Runa closed the door behind her, Rutah already slipping out of her dress.

“You talk too much,” Runa said, stepping in front of him to kiss, slipping her tongue in his mouth. 

Both women, naked now, started to remove his clothes. Rutah removed his tunic, pulling it over his head, while Runa undid his breeches. The women pushed him on the bed, and removed his boots, and slipped off his pants and smalls. 

“You have a fine body,” said Rutah. 

“Thank you."

"Now let’s see if your cock is as hard as your muscles.”

Farkas couldn’t help but stare at their bodies. Rutah had larger breasts than Runa, but they were both gorgeous, with smooth pale skin. Runa had a splash of freckles on her face he found cute. She climbed next to him in bed, pulling his face to her to kiss. Fingers trailed through his coarse scruff as they shared tongues. Rutah wasted no time on his cock. He pulled away, hissing at the warm mouth around him, then licking. He groaned as Runa pulled his face to her again, kissing. 

Gilda never sucked him like that. Maybe that should have been his first clue. He always went down on her. _Stop! Stop thinking about that horrible woman! Screw her. I’m going to have some fun._

Farkas whimpered when Rutah removed her mouth, feeling himself being pulled back onto the bed. Rutah attacked his cock again, feeling his hands being tied to the bedpost, but distractedly as Rutah was… distracting. By Ysmir he was hard, her mouth so warm… that tongue! He hissed when the woman’s tongue ran over the tip, digging into his slit. _No, don’t stop_. Another whimper when Farkas’ cock lost Rutah’s amazing mouth.

“How good are you with that tongue, big boy,” Rutah asked.

“No complaints so far.”

Her blue eyes were mischievous as she climbed on top of him until she was straddling his face. He had a full view of her pussy, shaved clean, wet. It had a wonderful smell of musk and some kind of flower. She spread her folds as he dug in with his mouth and tongue. He tried to grab at her, but his hands were stuck. Farkas tried to look back, but she drew his face back to her. As he was licking, he felt his ankles being tied up now, but he didn’t care. Rutah’s pussy was delicious. 

“You let us do all the work, big guy, except that tongue and gorgeous cock of yours. I can’t wait to get it inside me,” Runa said. “But first I need that cock in my mouth again.”

She climbed on top of him, ass first to his face as she sucked, so he had a wonderful view of her pussy, wishing he could reach it with his mouth.

“I love his cock too,” Rutah said, fingers trailing through Runa’s wet folds, putting on a lovely show for Farkas.

Between the ego-boosting and Runa’s warm mouth, he was feeling warm and fuzzy, pressure building between his legs. By Ysmir, watching Rutah’s fingers plunge in and out of Runa’s cunt was killing him. Now he understood why his brother enjoyed two women once in a while. 

Rutah’s fingers were slick with Runa’s wetness and slipped them into Farkas’ mouth, sucking on them. “She tastes good, doesn’t she?”

“Yes,” was all he could croak out.

“I… I want to taste you again,” he said.

Rutah’s smile grew wide, her eyes glittered in the candlelight in her excitement. She climbed up on his face again as he ate at her. What a feeling it was to have two women on top of him—one sucking his cock and him sucking her pussy. He dug in with his tongue on her clit and she came on his face, rewarding him with groans, wetness dripping down his chin. 

“Oh, you are certainly wonderful with that tongue,” she said, moving off of him, but pressed her face to his kissing him, then licked her juices off his chin.

“I want to taste your friend there too.”

“And you will, but we are here for you, Farkas.”

Farkas was getting close, as Runa’s sucked him with expert precision. She must have known he was close because she pulled off of him. 

“No, wait…” he whimpered.

“As much as I want to finish you with my mouth, I have to have that cock fucking me. It’s so long and thick. I would be a fool to not have it in me.”

More ego-boosting. He doubted it was true, but it was good to hear. Gilda never talked to him like that. _Shut up! Shut up!_

“Me first, Runa. Go sit on his face and experience his tongue. The big guy is quite amazing. I get him in me first.”

“Fine,” she pretended to pout, then squealed in delight as Rutah smacked her on her bare ass.

“I think our big guy liked that,” Rutah said, seeing his cock twitch.

“Hmm, we might have to give him a show after.”

“I think you’re right, my friend.”

Runa climbed on top of his face this time as he ate at her with eagerness. She tasted as good as Rutah. Farkas never enjoyed eating a woman as much as he did then, rewarding him with ‘oo’s’ and ‘ah’s.’ 

He sucked in his breath as he felt Rutah settle down on top of him, filling her. Her wet tightness surrounded him and he felt like he was about to come right then and there, but he distracted himself back to Runa’s pussy. Oh, the fire that burned in him as Rutah happily bounced on his cock. It was hard for him to focus on Runa with the pressure building in his cock. Rutah felt so good. 

Runa finally yelled out her orgasm as she too came on his face. She slipped down off of him and curled up by his side, kissing her wetness off of him, combing fingers through his thick chest hair as Rutah rode him, watching her tits bounce around. That was another thing he wanted. They had him all tied up and he couldn’t touch their tits. 

Rutah’s eyes were closed, head back, moaning as she bounced on him. Watching her the heat built and built, more pressure in his cock. Gods, he wanted to hold her, touch her. Farkas’ breath gasped as he came, eyes closed as he moaned. Rutah sat on top of him, pumping away until he was completely spent. She slipped off of him, his cock now limp, worrying about Runa who wanted to fuck him too.

“What about you?” he asked Runa.

Runa gave him a sleepy smile, still curled up by his side. “If you think we are done with you, big guy, you are sorely mistaken.”

“But I…”

Runa pressed a finger to his lips. “Shush. Trust us.”

The two women sat up in bed, hovering over him as they started to kiss, grabbing breasts, pinching nipples, smacking asses. It wasn’t fair. He wanted to do that, struggling against his bindings. “I want to do that.”

The girls turned and giggled. “We know.”

The two women kissed, pinched, licked, and groped, giving Farkas a full view of his entertainment. It all served one purpose—to delay time and get him hard again. Their movements were to poke and prod him back to life.

Once he was hard again, it was Runa’s turn to ride him. She was even tighter than Rutah, if that was possible. The squeezing wetness froze him for a moment as he adjusted to her. By Ysmir, these women felt good, wondering why he had just fucked like his brother sooner, always wanting relationships. 

“I want those too,” Farkas said, nudging a chin towards her full breasts. 

Rutah dangled a tit over his mouth, taunting, as his tongue tried to reach for it. When she finished teasing him, he groaned as her tit filled his mouth, sucking on her nipple. 

The second time around took longer but came he did thanks to Runa’s bouncing and rolling hips. Farkas couldn’t recall the last time he came twice in one night. No, it never happened. The two women made sure they were patient as he built up once more, giving as much pleasure as they could. 

When they were done, the women curled up on either side of him, resting. He didn’t know when he fell asleep, but when he woke up, he was still tied to the bed and the women were gone. 

“Dammit! How do I get out of this?”

His bedroom door burst open and Farkas turned to see Vilkas standing there with Torvar and Athis. _Great_. It wasn’t a good position to be in front of his brother and friends. 

“Runa and Rutah said you were done,” Vilkas said, covering his eyes to his brother’s nudity, sprawled on the bed. “Urgh, they could have at least covered you up.”

All three men went to work on Farkas bindings and tossed him his clothes.

“Shor’s ass, I’m glad that is over,” Vilkas said to Athis and Torvar’s drunken sniggering.

“Hey, Vilkas?” Farkas said as his brother and friends were walking out of the room, who turned around. “Thanks for that.”

“You knew we paid for them, then?”

“I figured it out.”

“I’m glad you had fun. Now, no more fucking moping. It’s getting old.”

Vilkas ducked as Farkas threw a pillow at him, laughing. “I’m over it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! <3
> 
> Farkas/Female Nord OC/Female Nord OC


	10. Love of a Thalmor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ancano, per usual, has a list of demands and expects to be heard and obeyed. Little does he realize Savos Aren has the man wrapped around his little finger, among other things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, Thalmor don't need love, but poor Ancano does. Maybe he wouldn't be so bent on world domination if got a little love once in a while.
> 
> Ancano/Savos Aren

The Thalmor was in a fit after catching that mage student, an Altmer no less, snooping through his things. How dare she! They shared the same bloodlines. How could she turn against her own kind? The woman spent far too long among the Nords if you asked him. The mage needed to be punished and Ancano was going to make sure of it as he marched up the flight of stone steps to the Arch-Mage’s private quarters. Savos Aren had to control his mages better. Ancano was a guest at the College of Winterhold and should be treated as such.

He didn’t bother knocking as he stormed in the large room. It was mid-day and Savos Aren spent them eating his meal in his room at this time. The man was nowhere to be seen, but it was a massive room, circular, centered by an alchemical garden, so Ancano walked around searching for the Arch-Mage stopping in his tracks when he saw the Dunmer wet and naked, drying his dark hair with a towel. 

Ancano stood stock still, trying not to sputter at the sight, feeling the heat creep up his golden skin, unsure what to do. When he got control of himself, he turned as silent as he could to leave, but Savos’ voice stopped him. The Thalmor cringed, knowing he was caught.

“Ancano. Is there a reason you stormed into my private quarters?”

The Altmer stiffened nerves back into himself and turned around, eyes averted to the man’s nakedness. “Apologies. Your door was unlocked.”

“Was it now? I thought I locked it. Regardless, you should always knock.”

Why is the man still naked? Get dressed! “You… your student… she… uhm…” He had never been at a loss of words! “Sir, if you please. Do you mind getting dressed? Then we can… talk.”

“I will do as I please, Ancano. This is my room you barged into. Not the other way around.”

Ancano forced himself to look at the Arch-Mage, at least in his face, but he couldn’t help but draw his eyes down the man’s dark skin, arms folded, to between his… back up to the face, which was smirking at him. _Great_. His eyes wandered down again as if he had no control of his eyes, and widened when he saw his cock grew into an erection. The Altmer always found the man attractive in the face, but his body… no, the Arch-Mage wasn’t just of a lower-class Mer, he was the enemy. Ancano was there to spy on the College, not seek out pleasures. But that cock... 

“I… I… I will come back... later,” he stammered, feeling the heat burn his face. 

“Oh, no you don’t. You interrupted my private time. I’m not going to accommodate you later. Sit down,” Savos ordered.

The Thalmor wasn’t used to being ordered about, but he did as he was told, anything to pull his eyes away from the Dunmer. When he sat down, he was facing Savos again, still naked, dammit. “Do… do you want to put on a…”

“No. Again, you barged into my room.”

Ancano sighed, looking up at the Dunmer standing over him. He was shorter than Ancano, but sitting down, the mage was towering. His red eyes and the smirk indicated his humor at Ancano’s discomfort. 

“Well…” Savos said.

“Right, well… uhm. Yes, you see… you’re, well…” Ancano stammered again, cursing himself for not getting it together. He wasn’t used to being out of control. It seemed the Dunmer held all the power over him.

The Altmer’s stomach turned, but not in a bad way, when Savos ran fingers through his long blonde hair, trailing down his face, cupping his chin. “You are a man who is entirely too uptight. When is the last time someone cared about you, Ancano?”

_Never._ Ancano couldn’t remember. He spent his life training for the Thalmor as he climbed his way to the top, never making time for any serious commitments. The man looked away, but Savos pulled his face to look at him again. Ancano didn’t understand it. Savos was naked and should feel vulnerable, not full of strength and power.

“You are stiff, controlling, power-hungry. I know your game and why you are here, Ancano. But I see something else. I see need, want, hunger. I can’t deny I find you… attractive,” Savos said, touching Ancano’s face, trailing a finger along his jawline. “I see why the Altmer see themselves as superior. I revile it, but… there is a beauty in your people I cannot deny. You glow, to my darkness, with your golden hair, skin, and eyes.”

Ancano’s heart fluttered at the words. No one ever talked down to him at the same time, lifting him up with his words. He remained silent, wanting to leave, look away—anything, but Savos held his gaze, those dark red eyes penetrating his soul. It felt that way, at least. Instead, he closed his eyes, trying to ignore the heat coming off the Arch-Mage, his hardened cock much too close. 

“You want me,” Savos said. It was more of a statement than a question. Yes, Ancano wanted him. He didn’t realize it until the man stood before him in all his muscular glory, dark skin glimmering with water droplets from his bath. Then there was his cock—large, hard, and glorious.

Ancano opened his eyes, looking up at Savos, nodding. The Dunmer gave him a toothy smile, a look of achievement in his eyes. Ancano swallowed away nerves, but it didn’t work. He felt humiliated, but desire drove him and pushed him through it. Deep down, he knew doing anything sexual with Savos could ruin him, but his want and need drove away reason and rational thought. 

Before he could change his mind, Savos bent down and pressed his lips to his. Ancano groaned in his mouth, feeling his warm tongue seeking out his. Savos had his face gripped in two hands as they kissed. Desire flooded through his body, ignoring the strange turn of events. His only thoughts were Savos’ mouth, wanting his cock in him, sucking him… he didn’t care. He reached out with a tentative and shaking hand, touching the darkened flesh before him. It wasn’t usual that mages were fit and firm. They spent their lives in study, not battle. But Savos was all those things. His body was tight with muscle, yet his skin was soft. The Mer took care of himself much the way Ancano did.

When Savos pulled away, he nibbled Ancano’s bottom lip. Looking down, the Arch Mage’s cock was erect in his face, leaking precum, twitching as if daring him to touch and suck it. It was a beautiful cock, even if it was covered in dark flesh. If someone told him he wanted the cock of a Dunmer yesterday, he would have laughed in their face and then killed them. Yet here he was, and he enjoyed it. The Dunmer was right—Ancano had a hunger that needed satiating.

He reached out, his hands shaking with nerves, and ran gentle fingers along the soft flesh of Savos’ cock and his thumb ran over the wet tip. The Arch Mage’s breath hitched, making Ancano smile to get a reaction with such a simple touch. He leaned his face closer, nose pressed against the where the base and hair met, inhaling him. The smoke smell was unexpected as if Savos emerged from the fires of Red Mountain itself. But there was a hint of masculine musk with whatever flower he recently bathed in. It was intoxicating.

Fingers tangled in his long hair when Ancano ran his tongue from base to tip, Savos’ groan rumbled all the way to his stomach. The Dunmer tasted divine and the Altmer needed more of him. He grabbed the base of Savos’ cock, leading it into his mouth. The heat hitting his tongue drove him deeper into his mouth. The Dunmer thrust ever so gently, back and forth, not wanting to gag him. The care was unexpected. 

Savos hissed and pulled out of Ancano’s mouth. “No, not yet. By Azura, you have a wonderful mouth, Ancano,” he said, dropping to his knees. His hand reached up and brushed a thumb along the Altmer’s swollen lip then slipped away to unbuckle the straps from the Thalmor robes. The Arch-Mage pulled aside the fabric over the shoulders, his eyes were intent on the thin, yet strong chest. Savos was stockier than Ancano, but both of them were fit. 

Ancano didn’t expect the Arch-Mage to kneel at his feet. The whole display earlier was one of strength and control. Now he was in deference as he looked up, pulling away cloth from the Altmer, exposing flesh. It was the first time Ancano wished he wasn’t wearing smalls, but that didn’t deter Savos as he reached out to touch the swollen bulge. 

“I want this,” Savos whispered.

The words sent a chill, forming goosebumps on his flesh. It filled Ancano with desire. Wanting Savos was one thing, but to be desired was another. Most people loathed Ancano, but he never cared until now. His emotional hardness and nerves washed away with those three simple words.

Ancano stood, letting his robe slip off and pool around his feet. Savos wasted no time yanking off the smalls, pulling them down around his ankles. It would have been humiliating any other time, but not now. All he could think about was the Dunmer between his legs. Before the Altmer could remove them entirely, Savos had his cock in his mouth. 

His groan was loud, gasping, the heat built up rather fast, slamming his eyes shut at the sensation. It had been too long. The warm tongue trailed up his cock and he heard whimpering, realizing it was coming from him. The Dunmer sucked then licked his slit at the top, sending shivers and waves of heat through his body. Fingers moved along his flesh, reaching for his ass, spreading the mounds as Savos pulled his cock deeper into his mouth. Ancano tangled his fingers in Savos’ hair, getting lost in the sensation of his warm and wet mouth surrounding him. The feeling was glorious. 

So distracted he was by Savos’ mouth, he barely registered the fingers probing the tight hole of his ass. The sensation built the heat and pressure more than before if that was possible. Before he could come, Savos must have known because he pulled his mouth off, making Ancano whimper once more. 

The Arch-Mage stood, a head shorter than Ancano, reaching up to him and pulled his face down for a kiss. Ancano wrapped his arms around the Dunmer as their tongues explored again, their cocks pressed up against each other, a reminder of their wants and needs. 

“I want to feel you. I want to be inside you,” Savos said, his voice breathy from passion.

Ancano was resistant at first, but Savos’ mouth on his blew away doubt. Yes, he wanted to feel him, his cock fill him. “Yes… please.”

Savos grabbed Ancano’s hand, pulling him to the bed. He gently laid the Altmer down, pushing his chest to lie back. Again, with unexpected gentleness. It was almost as if Savos cared about him. No one ever cared about Ancano, not that he let anyone in, but it was a nice change. He couldn’t deny he liked the feeling. It was a lie, of course. Savos only wanted to fuck him, but he wanted him too.

The Arch-Mage sat on top, straddling him, his soft hands rubbing over his flesh, reaching to his face. Again, that sense as if the Mer cared for him. Savos reached down, kissing him again, then pulled away. He reached into a drawer next to the bed and pulled out a small vial, pouring the contents into his hand. 

“Spread your legs,” Savos said.

Ancano did as he was told, nervous now. It wasn’t the first time he had anal sex, but it had been far too long. The Dunmer used a combination of oil and restoration magic to ease him, stretch him. He took great care not to hurt Ancano. More gentleness. 

“By Azura, I can’t wait to feel you wrapped around me,” Savos whispered, sending waves of desire and nervousness through Ancano. 

When Savos felt Ancano was ready for him, he pressed his cock to his tight hole, hovering over him, red eyes boring into. “Are you ready?” he asked, caring.

Ancano nodded, gripping the Mer’s strong arms. He was nervous but eager. It was tight, but Savos continued using restoration magic as he eased into him. Oh, to be filled like that. The Dunmer’s cock was large but felt wonderful as he thrust with ease, rolling his hips. 

“You feel so good, Altmer. I knew you would,” Savos whispered, picking up speed, then opened his eyes, looking at Ancano. “Touch yourself.”

The Thalmor wrapped his long legs around the Dunmer, accepting his cock deeper, and grabbed himself, stroking while Savos watched. “Beautiful…” Savos said, encouraging Ancano to stroke faster. 

The mage was pounding him, hitting him at that perfect spot. The pressure built up around him, centralized at his cock as he pumped faster, harder with his hand. The heat spread like fire through his veins, eyes watering from the pleasure. He didn’t know where it came from, but he would worry about it later. The pleasure spread through his body, goosebumps formed on his flesh as the sensation of being pounded and stroking himself culminated in an explosion. Ancano screamed out as he came, Savos pounding his ass until the man sputtered his movements, screaming himself as he came inside Ancano. 

Savos fell on him, his cock slipping out of his ass, panting as their sweat mingled and heartbeats competed with their speed. The Dunmer placed gentle kisses to Ancano’s neck, who wrapped his arms around the man as they held each other. 

The two Mer stayed that way, unmoving for what felt like an eternity before Savos sat up, still sitting on top of him. Ancano pulled away his hands. Now that they both were satiated, he supposed it was over and he needed to get back to his room. He never addressed what brought him to Savos in the first place and decided to worry about it later.

Soon, disappointment spread through him. He had a wonderful time with Savos, but it was over as the two had their fill. It would probably never happen again and things would be awkward. 

Light lightening, Savos grabbed Ancano’s neck, fingers like vices, his face hovering, but there was no malice or anger in his eyes. Ancano struggled to remove the strong hand locked on his throat but wasn’t able to as he thrashed. 

“If you backstab me or harm my students in any way, I will kill you,” Savos said, letting go of Ancano’s throat as the man coughed, rubbing the sore flesh. Savos reached to his throat as he flinched, but the Mer cast a healing spell on him. 

“I don’t want to hurt you, but you need to understand that I know why you are here. What I would like instead is to have more of you… like this.” Savos’ fingers brushed Ancano’s face, gentle again, eyes tender. “It’s your choice, Thalmor. I would care about you, give you pleasure. Isn’t that the better option?”

Ancano finally found his voice, hardly saying anything during their whole encounter. “You would care about me? Why?”

“So suspicious, but I suppose it is the way of the Thalmor. Because I want you. Isn’t that enough? You’re beautiful and I think you have a need, just as I do. Haven’t you been alone long enough?”

At first, Ancano thought the man meant to fuck him to distract from his mission, but Savos’ eyes were sincere. He knew a liar when he saw one.

“I… I can’t deny… it’s been… lonely.”

Savos bent down and kissed him. It was soft and chaste. “It is lonely for me too, Ancano. What say you? Can you try to trust?”

“I… I would like that.”

“Then it’s settled!” Savos said, laughing. He lay beside Ancano, wrapping a leg around his thigh, his head nestled into his neck, fingers playing with his chest. “This is so much better than suspicion and intrigue.”

Ancano laughed for the first time in who knows how long. “I can’t deny that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	11. Coming Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coming home after a horrible battle with Alduin, Vorstag reaches out to his wife to remind himself that's he's alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, so this isn't so 'porn-ish' and more on the lovemaking side... no, a lot more on the lovemaking side, but it is explicit with a lot of emotional contexts. This is a scene I wanted towards the end of my story of [The Renegade](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26058193), but my last chapter was already growing too long and I didn't have enough to create an epilogue, so I dumped this here. I hope you like it.

She was tucked into him, his body wrapped around her, an arm laid across her body as they slept. Well, Vorstag wasn’t sleeping. It was early morning, and dawn had not arrived yet. It wasn’t her curly hair tickling his face that woke him up; it was from the nightmares. Looking around their room and down at Lucinia, he realized he was home, and the nightmare wasn’t real, though it felt clear in his sleeping mind. 

He had only been home for two days after his return from Sovngarde. He and Anaka, the Dragonborn, killed Alduin. It was a brutal and emotional battle, and Vorstag almost died. The first time he almost lost his life, there was nothing for him to regret. No loved ones flashed through his mind. It was a depressing thought when he was brought back to the living. He aimed to remedy that. This time, however, he had Lucinia and their unborn child. Their child was faceless from his mind as Alduin crushed him between his jaws, but Lucinia’s beautiful face and pale green eyes were clear as day. Was it strange to have regrets when one died? Vorstag didn’t think so. He was grateful to have something, more like someone, to regret leaving behind. That meant he loved someone, and they loved him. 

He and Lucinia made love last night. No, that wasn't right. They fucked. It was desperate, rushed—she was his lifeline and a reminder he was alive. But there was an emotional pain in it, too. When the morning came, it washed away the darkness from his mind as his hand trailed against her soft skin. He hated to wake her, but he was desperate for her. Now he wanted to make love to her, and it couldn’t wait. 

Vorstag’s hand trailed to her still flat tummy, kissing her shoulder as she stirred awake. His hand moved up to cup a plump breast. “Already?” she mumbled, not turning around. “It’s not even morning yet.”

“I know.” Vorstag pressed his lips to her shoulder again, his hand moving down the curve of her hip, slipping between her thighs.

Last night was a reminder he was alive. This morning he wanted to explore every inch of her and remind himself how lucky he was to have such a woman in his life. Vorstag was alone and without love most of his life. The closest thing he came to it was dragging women to his bed. Fucking was the short-term remedy for the emptiness he felt. The day he fell in love with Lucinia, he realized he was alone for so long because he was waiting for her to come into his life. She filled the missing gaps in his soul. Even more amazing was that she loved him back. He wasn’t always kind to her, desperate to keep emotions at bay, but she saw right through his thick walls, chipping away at the stones. Now she was his wife with a child on the way.

Her breathing grew heavy as she fell back asleep. They stayed up late last night, and part of him wanted to let her rest, but he needed her. They could sleep for the rest of the day if they wanted to with no other plans other than their future.

As a finger trailed to her folds, dry in her sleep, but he grew hard with her ass pressed against his cock. He grazed her clit, stirring her body awake as she responded to him. 

Vorstag’s lips traveled down the curve of her waist, rising to her hip, then lifted a leg over his shoulder. His mouth pressed gentle kisses on her inner thigh. Lucinia gave him a soft moan and shifted onto her back, legs spreading. She was still half asleep but responded to him. 

His nose pressed close to her mound, inhaling her. He loved her smell. In a strange way, it reminded him of home—her scent familiar, welcoming. It always had that underlying musk with her favorite flower. It was from a soap he had specially made for her as a gift. Vorstag didn’t know why it pulled emotions out of him. Perhaps it was the lingering feelings from the battle not so long ago. No, it was from the reminder he was alive and came back to her. 

Slipping a finger in her folds, she grew wet for him. It was as easy for her to respond as it was for him to grow hard. Their bodies always in tune with one another. Her fingers slipping through his thick red hair was encouragement, a gentle push for him to keep going. It was all it took as he ran his tongue along her pussy to clit. 

Vorstag slid his hands up Lucinia’s body to caress her breasts, fingers tugging and pinching her nipples. Lucinia’s moans grew at the new sensation as she thrust toward his hungry mouth. Her wetness grew as he laved her, not yet wanting her to come, taking his time. His tongue was methodical, patient. He wanted to savor the moment, to feel every breath that hitched, feel her pulse that grew rapid, hear every moan that escaped her lips. Vorstag mapped every reaction into an unforgettable memory in his mind.

His tongue dug deeper, picking up speed. A suckle on her clit had her squirming under him. When she was close, he pulled away, kissing her thighs once more. Her mewling, wanting more, gave him another memory to savor—fingers tightening around his hair and pulled his head back to her wet warmth. Lucinia mumbled a please, as he dug in once more. Who could say no to that sort of pleading? Vorstag’s tongue swirled around her clit, knowing what she liked. He could feel her heat radiating on his face as she drew near; her thrusts became desperate. 

She came, the orgasm bursting in his mouth as she pulsed on his tongue, her back arching, her pussy hungry for his mouth. He loved that feeling and knowing he did that to her. That he could cause such a reaction always amazed him. She tried to push him away as the feeling grew too intense, but he held on a while longer as her body jolted under him as if his tongue sent electrical currents through her.

Lucinia lay limply under him. He understood that numb feeling all too well as he pressed soft kisses up her body, lingering for a moment to give each breast his attention. She grew heavy with sleep, but it wouldn’t last long. His mouth sought hers, stirring her awake once more as she reacted to him. His tongue found hers, exploring, tangling together. The kiss was soft and gentle, not hurried and desperate as it was the night before. Vorstag pulled away to look at her sleepy face. Desire and loved filled him. She was so beautiful with her tangled mass of curls spread out on the pillow.

Vorstag thought she fell asleep again, but her hands trailed up his arms as he hovered over her, moving to his face to pull him down for another kiss. As their lips met once more, he slipped inside her, moaning in her mouth. Her wet warmth and desire wrapped tightly around him like an embrace. The groan that escaped from her spurred him to thrust deep, knowing she wanted him as much as he wanted her despite how tired she was. 

Fingers dug into his back, nails pressing into his skin as he pushed deep and hard. He watched her face, his mind making more notes, brief but significant memories of her open mouth and full lips as she gasped, her furrowed brow as she accepted him, eyes still closed from sleepiness. 

His thrusts grew fast and with need, unable to hold back any longer. Vorstag pressed his face in her neck as his breathing hitched, his heartbeat pounded in an irregular rhythm. “I love you, mage,” he panted in her neck. It was a name he called her since the day they met. When before it was a criticism, now it was out of love.

“I love you, mercenary,” she mumbled back with her own name for him. 

As he pounded into her, goosebumps traveled up his arms as his body filled with love and lust. The heat and pressure spread through his body, centralizing between his legs the faster he went. Lucinia’s legs wrapping tightly around his waist almost did him in. _Just a moment longer._ Vorstag was torn between letting go and holding on, but his need to explode won out as he came in her. Grunts escaped him with each thrust, feeling Lucinia grapple his back as she pulled him tight to her. 

When he was spent, he fell to the side of her, not wanting to crush her slight frame under his large one. She rolled over on her side to face him, eyes now open, fingers trailing along the stubble on his chin. 

“Are you okay,” she asked.

His thumb brushed against her lower lip as they stared at each other. “I am now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! <3 I would love to know your thoughts in the comments below.


	12. The Sap of Sleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2 Chapters Today
> 
> Poor Torvar didn't know what he got himself into when he brought the two vials of sap he found with a note from Ysolda. He was hoping for gold instead he got something else entirely... not that he's complaining, if not a little frightened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Torva/Ysolda

Torvar’s arms yanked on his restraints, his bound ankles unable to move. He wondered how he ended up in the situation he was in. The Companion was returning home to Whiterun when he stumbled on a giant’s camp with a strange glowing tree in the middle. Curious, he inspected it, which only agitated the giant, forcing Torvar to kill it. Then he found a cave in the camp and another giant. After killing that one, he searched for any treasures the creatures hoarded and found a dead Orc. Digging around, Torvar discovered a letter to Ysolda and some potions.

Thinking he would make some gold, instead, the woman talked him into sex as payment. Torvar figured they would just fuck, instead found himself bound to her bed, yanking on his restraints. Foreplay, she called it. _Foreplay? I’m not even naked yet_.

His heart hammered in his chest, refusing to use his safe word she gave him despite his nerves. He didn’t want to look like a coward to the beautiful redhead, especially after promises of fucking when they finished with whatever this was. 

She was completely naked, plump breasts swaying as she walked around the bed. It wasn’t being tied up that was making him nervous as it was the knife she was carrying, twirling it around with a little too much finesse. 

“Wha… what are you… planning on doing with… that?” he mumbled, his voice a little high for his liking. _You’re a man, Torvar! A Companion! A warrior! Suck it up, man!_

Her silence caused flip flops in his stomach, willing her to use the knife to cut his bindings so they could move on to the fucking. _Gods, she’s beautiful, though, if not a little dangerous._

She ambled toward him. A soft smile played on her lips as she drew the tip of the dagger across his face, down his throat. The metal was cold, but the touch was soft. Torvar eyed her nervously, unable to stop getting hard with her tits so close. There was something seductive in what she was doing. 

Ysolda climbed on top of him, straddling his stomach, drawing the dagger down, down, down. She tucked it under his tunic and drew up as it sliced through the fabric. She pushed away his tunic, baring his chest full of thick hair as she ran her fingers through it. That dagger was too close. His breath shuddered at her touch, feeling her wet cunt leaking on his stomach, unable to take his eyes from her thatch of coarse red hair. His cock felt like it was going to burst. 

The woman cut away the rest of his tunic and turned, facing his cock. Her ass was so close to his face, the heat of her cunt radiating, her wetness glistening in the candlelight. Torvar strained his head, tongue wagging out like some deranged and starving dog. Perhaps he was but didn’t care. He had to taste her, straining on his bonds, but he couldn’t reach her. _She’s doing this on purpose to torment me_.

Expert hands untied his breeches. Torvar groaned in both pleasure and anxiousness. Again, that knife way too close to his man parts. He liked his breeches and knew she was going to cut them up like his poor tunic. _Fuck it_. I can buy some more. As predicted, the sharp blade sliced cleanly through the thick fabric down, down to his ankles. Then she sliced through the other side. She pulled the destroyed breeches out from under him as she went to work on his smalls. This would have been an excellent time to figure out how he would get home without clothes on, but he couldn’t get past the pussy in his face.

Her cunt was too far now. “Please, just a taste… a little taste.”

Ysolda looked over her shoulder, a coy smile on her face. “Well, I do like begging. Perhaps… if I find your begging… suitable.”

“Anything.”

Torvar was as naked as she, his cock painfully hard for her. Who knew he would like this so much. He was still nervous, but his desire overcame all fears. A broad smile appeared on his face when she crawled on him, spreading her legs over his face. He could smell her, she was so close. It was heady. He reached and reached, but she bound him to the bed. _Dammit!_ He tried to reach her pussy with his mouth, yanking, and struggling, but it was no good. 

A whimper came out of his mouth. 

“Now Torvar, I know you can do better than that. What am I going to do with you?”

“I just want to taste you… please.”

“Tsk, tsk…” she said, climbing off of him. Ysolda walked over to a dresser, rummaging through a drawer, and pulled out a riding crop. 

His stomach sank from fear, yet the excitement burned in him, fueling his cock beyond painful proportions. 

She dragged the leather strap across his body—so soft, so gentle. The sting of the crop that hit him on his thigh was way too close to his cock. It hurt, yet it was arousing in a strange way. His cock hardened and twitched every time she called him a bad boy who had to be punished. Why did that turn him on? By Ysmir, how long since he was with a woman? 

Torvar nearly yelled out with the next thwack on his stomach, but she climbed on him again, pussy in his face he couldn’t reach, and grabbed his cock. Her tongue ran over his tip, digging into the slit. He hissed and thrust into her mouth, wanting, no, needing more. Instead, she rewarded him with her coldness as she stopped and looked over her shoulder. Her face was like a scolding mother.

 _Whack!_ He felt the pain on his leg as he struggled with his restraints. “That’s for thrusting in my mouth. Bad boys need to learn restraint. For that you are to be punished,” she said. No, he didn’t want to be punished. He wanted her mouth wrapped around his dick.

“No, I… please,” he whimpered. “I… I’ll be good.”

“It’s too late, big boy,” she said, giving him another whack with the crop on his other leg. The pain made him flinch, but he had nowhere to go. 

With her cunt so close to his face, Ysolda slipped fingers under and between her legs. They thrust in and out of her wetness, and there was nothing he could do about it. “Too bad for you. You could suck on this if you weren’t such a bad boy. If you only listened…”

“Please… I want it.” Never in his life had a woman driven him to the brink, just watching her finger herself and in his face. 

She pulled her fingers out, looking at him, and sucked on them like she would a cock. The woman smiled at his whimper as her fingers moved down, down, spreading the folds of her pussy, inserting a finger in her core again. By Ysmir, watching a woman touch herself… it had him yanking on his restraints again. 

Her finger left her pussy only to have her suck it again, licking off her juices. “Mmm, I’m tasty. Do you want to try it?”

“Yes… yes, please,” he whimpered. “I’m good.”

Ysolda’s smile was crooked, eyes knowing as she turned around. Her slick cunt sliding on his flesh. Her fingers thrust into her pussy again and pulled out her slick fingers, inserting one into his mouth, then the other. Gods, she tasted delicious. He ate at her fingers like a man starved. When she pulled away, Torvar reached for her again, wishing he wasn’t restrained. He had to have her.

“More…”

Her laugh was throaty, rich. “I know you want more.” Her fingers slid up her body, groping plump tits and pinched her nipples. She threw her head back, moaning, leaking on him. 

“Please… I... I will be a good boy.” Torvar felt ridiculous, saying it. For the love of Ysmir, he was a warrior, but this woman did something to him. She smiled, leaning her face to him, hovering her lips over his. Instead of kissing him, she bit his bottom lip, sucking on it. 

“Very well. You will bathe my pussy with your tongue. If you do it well, I will let you fuck me.”

“Anything,” he gasped out.

Ysolda straddled his face, her warm thighs pressed against his cheeks. Her core was like fire against his skin. Torvar strained again, forgetting she tied him up, but relaxed as she pushed her cunt down, spreading her folds with long fingers. As soon as his tongue hit her cunt, he groaned, and she hissed. He reached for her clit—just a small suckle as he took it between his lips, swirling his tongue on the sensitive bud. She rewarded him with a moan, which pushed him to give her more, dragging his tongue through her pussy, sucking and licking her juices as they dribbled down his face. 

He ached for her cunt wrapped around his cock, but this would do for now. No, this was amazing, and he was hungry for her. Never had he wanted to eat out a woman this much. Her body moved her pussy around his face to where she wanted him to go. She was even in control of his movements. 

Torvar grabbed it as she pulled away. Her clit tight between his teeth as he pulled her back to him. It hurt her, but she allowed it, settling back on his face as her juices trailed down his chin to his neck. He sucked on her bud once more, hard as her body shuddered, but she didn’t stop him. His tongue pressed under the little hood of flesh. Ysolda could not hold herself upright any longer, hands braced against the wall for support as she gave in to the feeling.

Her cries were loud as she pulsed in his mouth, thrusting in his face. He could scarcely breathe, but he dug in deeper, giving her everything she wanted. As she settled down with shudders coursing through her body, he cleaned her with his tongue. A smile graced his face in triumph. Not only did he get what he wanted, he made her whimper and weak. 

“I believe I met to your satisfaction?” he asked, knowing he did.

Ysolda tried to compose herself, though not very well. He liked that. But her composure returned, a smile on her face again as if she never lost control. “I suppose you did. For that, I must reward you. You were a good boy, after all.”

His stomach fluttered in excitement. Finally, he got to fuck her. His cock trembled and twitched in anticipation. 

Ysolda bent down, feeling her breath in his ear. “Do you want it in my wet cunt or my tight ass?” she whispered.

He already had her cunt in his mouth. Perhaps he should pound her ass, though he didn’t know how he would do that tied up. 

“No worries. I know what you want,” she said as if sensing his dilemma.

She climbed off of him, going back to her drawer of treats and pulled out a small vial, wiggling it in his face. He knew then what she was going to give him as she pulled some thick liquid out into her hand. Ysolda gave him a show by bending over and inserting her slick and oiled fingers into the tight hole of her ass. His body shuddered, watching her, his hips thrust instinctually as if she was already riding him.

Instead of facing him, she turned her back, straddling his cock. She grabbed it, slicking it with the rest of the oil, and inched her ass down on to him. It was so tight as she slogged her way down his shaft to the hilt. Now he knew why she had her back to him, so he could watch his cock slide in and out of her. What a show it was as she bounced up and down. He loved watching his cock fill her little hole, spreading wider to accept him. Torvar only had anal sex once in his life, and that was nothing compared to Ysolda’s ass. She moved faster, slamming ass cheeks against him as the heat built up and spread through his body. He came out of nowhere. The build was so fast, exploding in her ass. 

“Fuck!” he yelled.

Torvar was weak and numb, his wrists and ankles raw from struggling, but he didn’t care. Ysolda was something else. She was sexy yet terrifying. He wanted more. She was better than any drink or drug.

He couldn’t help but hide his shock as she curled up around his body, fingers twirling his chest hair. The gentle snuggling was unexpected.

“I see now how much that sap of yours is worth,” he chuckled.

“Mmm, it is, but the price was so worth it.”

“Was it now?”

“Yes,” she said, untangling her body and walking off, hips swaying. He could tell she was trying to hide the wobbling in her legs. Ysolda returned with her dagger as he swallowed hard. He wanted more of her, but he was raw and needed rest.

Instead, she cut his bindings. Torvar sat up, rubbing his wrists, but never took his eyes off of her. “So, how expensive are we talking about? I mean… I’m assuming you… still owe me.”

The woman’s eyes flashed in anger until she understood his meaning and sat down in his lap. “It’s so expensive that… I will owe you for quite a while,” she said, fingers walking up his chest and tapped his bottom lip.

Torvar wrapped his arms around her. His hands trailed up her back and fisted her hair, yanking her head back so he could look in her eyes. “Yes, you do. This time, I get the crop. I want to smack that gorgeous ass of yours.”

Lust filled her eyes, smiling at him. “Deal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments always welcome <3


	13. Doctor Brynjolf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2 Chapters Today (See previous post)
> 
> Anja seeks the help of the renowned Dr. Brynjolf who is an expert at women's sexuality. (Sorry, not sorry)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brynjolf and OC
> 
> CW: Doctor/Patient may bother some people. This is a modern setting.

I sat in the waiting room as nerves ran through me, ruffling through dated magazines instead of pacing. I must have read the same sentence in the article five times, tossing it aside since I couldn’t focus. The nerves weren’t because I was seeing a gynecologist—that was never fun. I was here seeking Dr. Brynjolf’s help. It was fucking embarrassing, but I tired of my boyfriend complaining. He said I was like ice, never wanting to have sex with him. I had to admit, my desire was unreasonably low, always making excuses not to fuck him. What’s the point in having a relationship if I couldn’t connect with him on a deeper level?

I told a friend of mine about my problem, and she recommended Dr. Brynjolf, who was well known in the city of Riften, gifted in helping women deal with sexual issues. _Gods knew I have sexual issues_. My friend explained that the doctor was brilliant at figuring out what makes a woman tick and finding their sexuality and inner desires. I didn’t know what to expect, but I was desperate enough to overcome my embarrassment and seek help. My boyfriend finally wore me down, and it made me feel insecure, not just sexually, but it was rubbing off on how I saw myself as a woman. The harder he pushed, the worse I felt. 

“The doctor will see you now,” said the pretty Redguard nurse, snapping me out of my thoughts. 

My hands grew clammy as the nurse led me through the long corridor and told me to sit down on the exam table, the metal stirrups gleaming in the harsh fluorescent light. I hated those things. It felt like I was exposing myself for the world to see. It wasn’t like I’ve never had a pelvic exam before. I’ve had many. It wasn’t the intrusion that left me feeling nervous but talking about something so personal. I felt… broken somehow. I hated to admit to anyone that I was cold and had no desire—that I was not normal. _Maybe there’s a magic pill. Wouldn’t that be nice?_

I sat on the crinkly paper that lined the table and fidgeted with my hands, waiting. Despite the harsh lighting, at least they decorated the place to make it look more inviting with warm colors and landscape paintings. I looked around for another magazine, but there weren’t any. Well, I didn’t want to read it, anyway.

I didn’t have to wait long when the doctor walked in, which was a rarity. It surprised me how handsome he was. My friend never said a word. He was tall with cropped red hair, scruff on his chin, and bright green eyes. It would have been better had he been ugly… then again. Now I had to tell all my problems to Dr. Hot Stuff over here, trying to ignore the muscles straining against his scrubs. Why did those glasses look so good on him? The hot nerd… great. Maybe I should ditch my boyfriend and get me one of those.

“Hello… Anja,” he greeted, looking at the paperwork in his hands. “What can I do for you today.”

Of course he has an accent to die for because why wouldn’t he? _Settle down, Anja_. “Well, I’m due for an exam, but... “

“Yes, I see it’s been two years.” At least he didn’t scold me for waiting so long. “I heard a ‘but’ in there. Are you having problems?”

I nodded my head, unsure where to start, finding myself at a loss of words.

Dr. Hot Stuff sat down in a chair, putting the folder on the table, and looked up at me, giving me his undivided attention. Was there a reason I just wanted to run my fingers through that thick red hair? “So, what problems are you having, lass?” _Lass? Why did I like that?_

I shifted on the table, cringing as the paper crinkled under me. “There’s something wrong with me. I’m not… I’m having… I have no libido. I’m only twenty-eight years old. I shouldn’t be so dead down there. It’s like the damned Sahara Desert. My… boyfriend, he… he thinks I’m cold and that I don’t want to do it with him.”

The doctor chuckled at my description and scoffed. “Sounds like you need a new boyfriend. And I promise you, you aren’t a desert down there, Sahara or otherwise.”

A smile twitched on my face. “Yeah, but that still doesn’t fix my problem.”

“Fair enough. I don’t think you have anything to worry about, but I can take a look and see if I can help you.”

“Thank you, doctor,” I said, blowing out a sigh of relief. _Wait, why am I relieved? Oh, yeah, I’m going to get help._

“Do you masturbate?” 

I definitely didn’t want to talk about this. It was downright embarrassing, but I suck it up because I knew the doctor wanted to help me. “I… I uhm, yea, sometimes.”

“Once a month? Two times a year? How many times would you say?”

My face suddenly felt on fire, spreading to my chest and ears. Gods, this was so embarrassing. “Uhm… well, almost every day.” I had to. I was trying anything to get things stimulated for the bedroom. Don’t use it, lose it, right?

A smile twitched on his mouth, but he didn’t give in to the full smile. “I see and do you orgasm each time?”

I shook my head. Sometimes I would stress out so much, nothing happened, and I would give up. I tried fantasies, and that worked sometimes, but not always. As soon as I visualized my boyfriend’s face, I would dry up.

“Well, as I said… it sounds like you need a new boyfriend. People need to share their sexual desires together. It isn’t about who gets what. It’s a shared experience. Does he go down on you?”

I scoffed. “No, not usually.”

“Do you tell him what you want? Partners can’t guess, you know.”

“I’ve told him, but he says it’s not his thing.”

“I see.” _What does he see?_ “Still, I will give you a thorough examination. Get fully undressed, please.”

I looked around to find a room or a curtain to get undressed behind, but there was nothing. “Uhm…”

“Just get undressed, please. There’s no point in modesty when you’re going to be unclothed anyway, lass,” he said as if sensing my worry. 

I jumped off the exam table and turned my back to him, unbuttoning my blouse, slipping it off my shoulders, and folded it on a chair. Then I kicked off my heels, undid my jeans, pulling them off by the ankles. Next went my bra and panties. I climbed back on the table, covering my breasts with my hands.

“Lie back, please, and remove your hands from your breasts. I need to do a breast exam.”

Dr. Hot Stuff dug into my too large breast with warm fingers, kneading deep into my flesh, checking for lumps. The sensation always hardened my nipples, whether or not I wanted them to. I knew it was a natural reaction, but that didn’t stop the heat from creeping up my face. 

“So, uhm, what… what are you going to do to check to see what’s wrong? How does all this work?” I asked, trying to take my mind off of his probing fingers and get a better idea of what was going to happen.

He pinched my nipple hard, and I tried not to cringe. Then he moved on to the other breast. “I’m going to see how easily you orgasm,” he replied as if it was no big deal. _Right, it's just an everyday thing that a hot doctor makes you orgasm_. “If you do, then I want to see if we can get you to orgasm multiple times. If all goes well, you are fine, and you need to dump your boyfriend or buck up and make sure you both get what you want sexually. If I can’t, I will send you off to get some blood work done. But I am well-versed in women’s sexuality, and I am usually right. I have yet to fail in getting a woman to orgasm. I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”

“Oh,” I gulped. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to orgasm or not.

“Don’t be nervous. If women struggle with desire and arousal, I’m good at getting it out of them. If I can do that for you, I will send you home with some homework to get that desire up for you on a regular basis. Don’t worry,” he said, patting my hand when he finished with the last pinch to my nipple.

“Shouldn’t… uhm, someone be in here for the exam?” Usually, doctors have their nurses in with them whenever I have an exam.

“I can call her in. Would that make you more comfortable?” 

_Actually, no, it wouldn’t_. Two people watching me while he goes at it would be too much. “Uhm, no, it’s OK.”

After my pap smear, Dr. Hot Stuff thoroughly washed his hands and stood between my legs, looking down at me. “Are you ready?”

I nodded, not saying anything, nerves frayed, fingers gripping the sides of the exam table. I almost burst out in a fit of giggles from nerves, wondering if he got it up helping women like this.

“Try to relax,” he said as he spread KY all over his fingers and inserted them into my pussy, reaching deep into me, fingers poking around, hooking. As satisfaction planted on his face, he thrust his fingers inside of me, placing his other hand on the mound of my cunt, pressing down. 

_Whoa, what is he doing?_ That… felt good. He hit something that sent shivers up my body, spreading like fire—my g-spot, I supposed. My eyes watered, but it wasn’t from being upset or from emotions. It was like a reaction to the sensation as goosebumps traveled up my body. I then felt his thumb from his hand, pressing down, rubbing my clit. _Oh, Gods_...

My body grew relaxed at the sensation, my anxiousness washed away, enjoying his fingers thrusting in me and his thumb rubbing. I slid my ass closer to him as if reaching his hand, wanting it deeper while spreading my legs more. The paper crinkled beneath me as I gripped the edges in my hands. There was something about the thrusting of fingers on my g-spot and clit rubbing that turned my body to mush but burned with fire. As his rubbing grew faster, I came in an explosion, covering my mouth as I cried out. I felt my cunt pulsing around his fingers like some thick cock. 

My body laid there like a limp noodle, breathing too fast as my heart settled down. I was dizzy as I came down from my orgasmic high. No, my boyfriend did nothing like that for me. “Wow,” I whispered.

“You orgasmed quite normally, lass. But I would like to see you orgasm at least one more time before you go. Would you like some water?”

All I could do was nod, still on my back, legs sprawled on the stirrups unabashedly, my pussy still pulsing like a second heartbeat. If I could do that every day, I would be a happy woman.

I chugged the water he gave me, feeling more at ease, but then the tears spilled out of nowhere. I sat up and cried, feeling like an idiot.

“Let it out, lass. This is a normal reaction after a powerful orgasm, especially not having one with someone who doesn’t care about your needs,” he said, handing me some tissues. “All you needed was a little reminding.” 

“Thank you,” I said, blowing my nose. “It’s just that… It was so strong.”

“To be fair, I know what I’m doing.”

_You definitely do that._

“I will be back in a minute. Rest up your body, and we can begin again in about thirty minutes. Just stay lying back, keeping legs in the stirrups.”

When he left and the door closed behind him, I could feel my juices run down my ass, wondering why I didn’t care, reaching in between my legs, wiping away the wetness that pooled there. I couldn’t believe I came so hard and how wet I was. Maybe there was nothing wrong with me, after all. My boyfriend made it look like I was broken or something, always complaining about how I never wanted to fuck him. Maybe he was the problem. He definitely couldn’t do what Dr. Hot Stuff could or even tried. In fact, he was always putting me down now that I thought about it. All his nagging about my sexual drive and it wore me down to the point I was insecure about everything. 

I grew angry, no longer nervous, and glad my friend recommended Dr. Brynjolf to help me. Maybe I didn’t need help in the orgasm department, but I needed a good swift kick in the ass to wake me up from the asshole that was my boyfriend.

When Dr. Hot Stuff returned, he was carrying what looked like dildos, but different. 

“This is a butt plug. Not the most glamorous of names, but I have a feeling you’re going to like it.”

“You mean… in my ass?”

“Aye. Are you willing to try it? I think it will be right up your alley, lass.”

It was small and made of metal. I wasn’t so sure about it, but I pushed it aside, determined to go through with it. _Fuck my boyfriend_. I would show him how sexual I was when I dumped his ass. 

“Let’s do it,” she said with more confidence than I felt.

“I want you to turn around on your knees, resting on your thighs. I will insert it into you,” he explained, rubbing KY into my tight hole, poking and prodding with fingers to loosen me up. I couldn’t say I hated the feeling.

The metal was cold as it slowly entered my ass. It hurt at first, then when it was fully in, it felt… good. I liked it and told him as much. It felt filling, but not uncomfortably so, and it was definitely arousing. Dr. Hot Stuff wasn’t wrong.

“I thought as much. Since you like it, I want you to wear it out of the office today and take it home. Wear it for an hour or so each day. Go grocery shopping while wearing it, or wherever. No longer than two hours, lass. It will be a reminder of how sexual you are and to not let anyone tell you otherwise. Each day you wear it, don’t touch yourself for two days. Let the arousal build, then masturbate. I suggest you purchase some dildos and a good vibrator. My nurse has a list of ones that I recommend.”

Yes, I was sexual and had desire. It was running through my veins like blood. It felt good to feel the heat build again, not bothered by the fact my ass was sticking up in the air with a plug hanging out of it. I should have been embarrassed by all this, but I wasn't. 

“Now I’m going to insert a dildo into you,” he said. I could feel something thick and slick entering my pussy. The sensation of my ass and pussy filled left me nearly melting and dripping. I was sure I was going to come just like that. 

The sound of electric whirring stirred the air, and I nearly jolted off the table when its vibrations hit my clit. The sensation was intense, as I gritted my teeth to endure the overpowering feeling. I used a vibrator before, but not like this. My ass filled with a plug, my pussy with a dildo doubled, no, tripled the pleasure I was feeling. As he rubbed the vibrator on my clit, he moved the plug in and out. _Oh, Gods, that feeling_. Already an orgasm hit me like an electrical shock. It took mere moments. It was the fastest I ever came.

I laid on my chest, arms hung limply at my sides, the rest of me standing. My legs were shaking as I lay dead to the world. _Was that drool coming out of my mouth?_ _Who cares?_ My body was utterly numb, yet strangely energized. If I crawled into bed when I got home, I could sleep for a week. 

After three more orgasms, I was a wreck, my clit, and ass raw. Dr. Hot Stuff patted my back. He may have asked if I was OK, but my mind was in one giant orgasmic fog. I struggled to sit up as the doctor helped me, handing over my folded clothes. 

“Thank you, doctor,” I said, then burst into tears again. _Fuck!_ The entire ride, while enjoyable, was an emotional rollercoaster. When I looked up, he had a look of understanding and sympathy on his face. He got it. He understood women. I just wished my boyfriend did. It was time all that changed. Now that I knew I wasn’t the problem that my boyfriend was, it was time to own myself and my sexuality. He didn’t need to be a part of my life any longer. 

The doctor left the room to let me get cleaned up and dressed, leaving the plug tucked in my ass. When I left the exam room, I saw him standing in his office, looking over paperwork. I rushed over to him, grabbed him by the shirt with two fists, and pulled him to me, pressing my lips to his. His eyes were large in surprise, but I didn’t care. I didn’t need his love. That kiss was the beginning of a new start to my life, and it was because of Dr. Brynjolf—Dr. Hot Stuff. It was a symbol of saying goodbye to old Anja and welcoming new Anja.

I pulled away, patted his chest, and walked out with weak legs, looking forward to showing my boyfriend all he’s going to miss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments welcome <3


	14. The Big Bad Wolf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ria has had a bit of a crush on Vilkas for a while, but she's struggled to get him to notice her or reach him while he struggles inside. One night he storms off into the training yard to work out his issues, the weather outside as stormy as his inner thoughts. Everyone leaves him alone but Ria, who tries to reach him through sparring with swords. Finally, he sees her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's so hard to not write Vilkas.
> 
> Vilkas/Ria

She watched him across the mead hall as she nibbled on her bread. A sip of mead from her mug hid her staring eyes. Ria didn’t know why she lusted after him. Vilkas was not the most pleasant sort, not like his brother, the kind Farkas. Vilkas was all pent up rage, broodiness, and sexiness rolled into one. Her thoughts lingered, fantasized about using that energy for some powerful sex. She imagined tangling her fingers through his thick dark hair, staring deep into his intense silver eyes as he pounded into her until she screamed for mercy. The thought was enough to feel the wetness build between her legs, struggling to keep from fanning herself, lest someone notice her desire at the table.

Ria didn’t know what made Vilkas so frustrated all the time. She tried to reach out to him, but he always brushed her off. It saddened her he never noticed her beyond being the newest whelp of the Companions. The only time she could get him to smile and notice her was when they were sparring. There was something about metal clashing against metal that brought out the best in him. 

Vilkas was especially moody that evening; not even his brother’s smiles and jokes could pull him out of it. She couldn’t figure out what could get the man so riled. He was private, letting no one in. Ria thought about asking Farkas but felt it was too intrusive. It really wasn’t her business. 

She watched him stand, brushing his brother’s hand away that reached for him, and stormed off outside to the training yard. It was dark out and storming. Surely he would not train in this weather. 

Ria debated going out there to check on him, but no one else seemed to, letting him work out whatever was bothering him alone. It didn’t seem right. When the meal was over, everyone headed downstairs to the living quarters—everyone but her. She lingered, still in debate, worried. Decision made, she squared her shoulders, took a deep breath, and headed outside. Surely he needed someone. He was suffering, and he shouldn’t be alone. 

Under normal circumstances, they all wore armor while they sparred or practiced. But Vilkas was swinging his great-sword in graceful arcs, his tunic and breeches drenched from the chilly rain. His medium-length hair hung in wet, wavy swirls. _Fuck! Why does he look so sexy like that?_ Her pussy clenched, watching him with his frustrated swings, growling. Oh, that man could growl. _Stop, you’re here to help him, not fuck him_. Who was she kidding?

He would probably brush her aside like he always did, but she had to try. This time, she was going to try something different. Ria picked up a training sword, and when Vilkas whirled around with his weapon, they clashed. He froze, his glowing eyes a mixture of anger and surprise. 

“What are you doing here?” he spat. 

Ria reminded herself that he wasn’t angry with her, just with whatever was bothering him. She said nothing as she took a swing at him, barely missing his abdomen in his stunned silence. The sword was dull, but it would have hurt not wearing armor. 

His eyes narrowed at her as they circled each other, looking for an opening of attack. Vilkas’ face gave nothing away as he lunged at her. Training for over a year with the Companions, Ria was familiar with their moves, though they still surprised her once in a while. This wasn’t one of those times as she parried, then swung at him.

“You’ve learned well, whelp,” he said, unsmiling. 

“You’re a tough teacher. I had to adapt,” she said, her eyes never leaving his as they paced each other again.

Vilkas curled his sword around with one hand, switching it to the other as they circled in their dance. Lightning crashed in the distance, followed by the loud rumble in the sky. “You never answered my question earlier. What are you doing here? Most are wise to stay away from me when I’m like this.”

Ria wanted a chance to wipe the wet hair trailing down her face, but she knew as soon as she did, he would attack. “I guess I’m stupid,” she said, shrugging.

He scoffed and lunged at her, but she rolled out of the way. When she popped up, she narrowly missed his backside, but he was ready for her. She stood up fast and danced out of the way as he came at her. 

Their swords hit with a metal ring scarcely heard over the thunder and pouring rain. Ria was shivering from the cold, but she refused to back down as they locked their swords. Their bodies struggled in their iron embrace, eyes not leaving their faces. 

“You’re stronger than you look,” he grunted.

She smirked at the small compliment. “Hard training does that.”

“What do you want from me?”

They still struggled to pry each other off. Ria was certain he could shove her off. He was the stronger of the two by far, but yet he stood his ground. Maybe he wanted to see how far she would go or how long she could hold out.

“You shouldn’t be alone like this,” she admitted.

“Why, dammit?”

“Because I care.”

He continued to stare at her, but his eyes weren’t as harsh despite remaining silent to her words. Then he shoved her off, but she was ready as she took a few steps back, regaining her balance as he thrust his sword in her direction. Instead of blocking him, Ria rolled, kicked out, and smacked him on the back with the flat part of her blade.

Vilkas whirled at her in his anger. 

“Getting angry will kill you. Your words,” she said.

“So they are.” He took a moment to compose himself, not taking his eyes off of her.

She knew he wouldn’t make that mistake again, but she had to do it. To get Vilkas to listen to her, to pay attention, she had to get in some good hits.

Clashing again, they resumed their struggling embrace. Ria held her own against him as he tried to push her away as rain poured down, thunder crashing around them.

“What do you want from me!” he growled again. One of his hands let go from his sword as he fisted her black hair from behind. “I can smell your heat.”

She could feel the heat creep up her face despite the cold water pouring down on her, wondering how he could smell her out there—know she was lusting for him. Why was that so hot? The very idea set her body on fire, forgetting how cold she was.

His eyes were angry, but they were filled with something else. Ria wanted to say lust, but she wasn’t sure. Who knew with Vilkas, but it was as if he was seeing her for the first time, not just some whelp. His breathing was hard, and she could hear it even over the storm. She dared not move except for her uncontrollable shivering, uncertain what he was doing. 

Ria felt her eyes widen in surprise when he pressed his lips to hers as soon as the thunder hit as if the skies themselves sensed their desire. The kiss was hard, sloppy, hungry. He thrust his tongue in her mouth with intrusiveness. It wasn’t welcome at first, but he pushed, and she melted into him. Their swords clanged to the ground as they groped and grabbed, both of them yanking on each other’s hair. Vilkas pulled her head back roughly, nibbling and kissing her throat. Ria’s face was to the sky, nearly choking on the rain pouring down. 

She felt herself open up to him, the heat pooling between her legs, wet either from her own juices or rain, she couldn’t tell. A hand slipped down and grabbed at her ass, pulling her to him. She could feel his hard cock pressed up against her pelvis, moaning in his mouth. Her response made him growl. Lust filled her as she grabbed him between the legs. She wanted to devour him either with her mouth or cunt. She didn’t care. Her reaction changed everything. 

Vilkas pulled her under the porch and shoved her forward on the table, bent over, his body splayed on hers, his hand groping between her legs. She felt aflame with want. All she wanted right then was for him to take her and fuck her from behind, storm or no storm.

“Tell me,” he grunted in her ear.

“What?”

“Tell me.”

She realized he was asking for permission. Normally those words would have broken the spontaneity, but it only fueled her fire. “Fuck me,” she said, not caring how it came out or if it appalled him.

With one hand pressed to her head, holding her down, he undid her breeches, yanking them down, then ripped off her smalls. She was even colder than before, shivering uncontrollably from the cold and desire as she heard him pulling down his own pants. The fist in her hair hurt, but the burning for him pushed the pain away, eager to feel his cock in her. 

There it was, nudging in, but her leaking juices let him glide in with only a little coaxing. Oh, gods, he filled her in the most delicious way. Having Vilkas take her from behind like this—so raw and feral, drove her over the edge as he pounded away at her with complete abandon. The thought of anyone walking out, or a guard walking by at that moment had her dizzy with lust. The risk was tantalizing. Ria clung on the table for dear life, the wood hard under her body, the wind blowing on her wet skin freezing, but her body yearned for him. The fucking was primal as he slammed into her.

He came too fast, exploding, and grunting with each thrust. She wasn’t able to come. It was hot and animalistic, but the result was a disappointment. Vilkas’ body lay sprawled on top of hers, his heart pounding against her back, heavy breathing in her ear. 

A surprise hit Ria at the sudden gentle kisses against her cheek. She thought that was it. He got a good fuck out of her, and it was done, but his warm breath caressed her face, his fingers twirling in her wet locks, no longer yanking.

“I… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for that to happen so fast,” he muttered.

“It’s fine.” It wasn’t fine, though. She still burned for heat, and her pussy had yet to be satiated as it ached from his pounding and her want. All that remained was masturbation, as always.

Vilkas removed his body from hers, pulling up his pants, then he pulled hers up and helped her to stand. “It’s not fine.” The determined, irritable look was back on his face. Ria hoped he felt better with a good fucking, at least. 

He turned her and grabbed her face, kissing her with tenderness. His silver eyes glowed with raged, so incongruent with his actions. 

“You’re cold,” he said as if he just noticed her shivering.

“I’m…”

Before she could say anything, he lifted her in his arms and carried her back inside Jorrvaskr as she curled into him, grasping for any kind of warmth from his body. Ria didn’t know what was going on or why he was carrying her when she was quite capable of walking. 

“Vilkas, I can…”

“Stop talking.”

_Okay, then_. He carried her through the mead hall and down to the living quarters. She worried what others would think about the show they were putting on, but everyone seemed to be in their rooms. Vilkas certainly didn’t care as he walked down the hall and straight to his room, kicking the door open. There he put her down, then looked around his room, distracted as he ran a hand through his wet locks. Ria stood awkwardly as he dug around drawers and pulled out a towel and blanket. 

Vilkas turned to her and combed back wet hair from her face, his eyes soft now. The rage or whatever he was feeling fled, leaving behind not kindness, but a gentle intensity. There was no other way for her to describe it. The look made her ache for him again, but she stood there like a fool, trying to anticipate his next move. 

The kiss was short and sweet, two large hands cupping her face. She wanted to ask what was going on, but who was she to question getting what she wanted—his attention. When he pulled away, he lifted her wet tunic over her head and pulled off her boots and breeches. She stood there, shivering as he dried off her body and wrapped her in a blanket. 

As warmth embraced her, Ria watched him remove all his clothes, smalls included. She couldn’t stop staring at his cock, realizing how large it was, even flaccid, not understanding how he fit so easily in her earlier. Her cunt must have been soaked before. Perhaps it was the hair yanking that distracted her from the pain.

Vilkas pulled off her blanket, removing her breast band and smalls, then guided her backwards to his bed, laying her down. “I will make this right,” he whispered, hovering over her.

“Make what…” He interrupted her with his mouth, silencing her with a kiss. It wasn’t tender as it was last time, but it wasn’t primal either. It was a good balance, leaving her wanting more as she devoured his tongue, fingernails trailing up his back, feeling old scars.

While Ria wanted this, she was too achy for him. After that good thrashing from behind, she didn’t want it gentle and slow. Vilkas may be satiated, but she was starving. She pushed him back as he looked down at her, his eyes questioning. “Don’t go easy on me, Vilkas. I’m still hot for you right now. I… I want it hard.” She could scarcely believe she said that. It wasn’t like her to be so open about her desires. If she was, she would have approached him a long time ago.

She could have sworn his eyes glowed at her words, but he didn’t smile. Her back arched as he thrust several fingers in her cunt, nearly shoving his large hand all the way in. _Yes_. “Harder,” she grunted out. Vilkas fingers reached in hard and fast, hitting that spot that sent shivers through her body. Not the cold kind, but ones filled with heat and desire. 

Her eyes were closed, her head thrown back, taking in the sensation of him pounding her with his hand, not sure if he was watching her face or not. Hands gripped the covers in her fists as the heat built around her cunt, throbbing and swollen from her previous assault with his cock.

Ria arched her back in a spasm of pleasure when Vilkas nibbled her clit, grazing his tongue around the over-sensitive nerves. She could feel his tongue intrude into her core, her foggy mind wondered what she tasted like with her juices mingled with his. Legs spread wider as she bucked her hips into his mouth, devouring her clit. The orgasm came out of nowhere. Wave after wave of pleasure crashed over her as an ocean over cliffs during a storm. Her hands gripped his hair, pulling his mouth to her, thrusting her core to him as he continued to slam her pussy with his hand. She may have screamed, but she couldn’t be sure.

As the waves of pleasure trickled, Vilkas pulled out his hand, wiping his face clean along her flesh as he kissed up her stomach, pressing his soft lips to her sensitive nipples. Her heart slowed down to a less dangerous speed, and he pulled her into an embrace, holding her while he trailed fingers along her shoulder. Again, the unexpected tenderness. It seemed so unlike Vilkas to be soft and gentle, but she liked it now that he satiated her hunger.

“That was… hot,” she whispered in his neck.

Vilkas chuckled. “It was… Thank you.”

Ria pushed herself up on an elbow to look at him, wondering why he needed to thank her. “For what?”

A large hand trailed fingers along her jawline, eyes so calm and less shimmery as his pupils dilated. “For seeing me, Ria.”

She didn’t quite understand what he meant. Her brows furrowed, telling him as much.

“When I… struggle, people leave me alone. I think I need that, but you showed me I need more. You forced me to realize that I can’t fight… this alone. I’m sorry, I didn’t see you before. You are quite the woman, Ria. I… I would like this to continue if that’s okay with you.”

It was more than she wanted or expected. Yes, she would love to continue this. Maybe next time they could make love, though, the fucking in the storm was downright hot. Ria snuggled back into him, pressing her face into his neck as she inhaled his manly musk and lingering sex. The smell had her burning between her legs again. 

“Yes, I would like that,” she said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments always welcome and appreciated <3


	15. The Connecting Flight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Olfina Gray-Mane is stuck at the airport waiting on her next flight. As she sits at the bar waiting, she comes across a man she cannot resist. She discovers there is a naughty side to her she never knew she had. What better way to wait for a flight than a little adventure with a handsome man who is also stuck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Modern setting, if you couldn't tell. OK, so all this smut is what happens when one such as myself as a COVID scare along with the rest of my family. I ended up producing a LOT of smut fics. Who knew a virus could bring it out of me. Anyhoo. I hope you like my modern version of Olfina Gray-Mane and Jon Battle-Born.

She thanked the Gods the bar was still open, though she wished it was more private being centered in the middle of the airline gates. Her feet were killing her and she shucked off her heels when she sat down on the stool. Olfina ordered a Firebrand Wine and pulled out her laptop as she waited. She had to send an email out to her client that she was stranded at the airport, her flight delayed. There was hope that she could make her connecting flight to Solitude before the thunderstorm blew in, but the plane was late. There was no chance of that now.

Olfina thanked the bartender when he placed the glass of red on the counter as she clicked away at her keyboard, letting everyone know her status. When she finished and with nothing else to do, she closed the lid of her computer and took a long sip of her drink. Firebrand wine was one of her favorites. Most people preferred a smooth finish, but she liked the burning as it went down her throat.

It was going to be a long wait and she was going to be uncomfortable in her dress and blazer, debating on going to the restroom to change. Olfina stood and removed her jacket, slinging it over the back of her chair. She loved her dress and she hated the idea of shoving it in her suitcase, so she left it on instead of changing. The dress was black and short with a flowing skirt, coming halfway down her thighs, the sleeves long. There was a massive red flower print on the front, adding in a bit of femininity to an otherwise professional look.

As she clasped her long ash blonde hair on top of her head, she looked around the bar wishing it wasn’t so dead. Other people were smarter than she, apparently, deciding to wait out the storm at home. No one was there other than another woman, the bartender, and a man sitting across from her on the other side of the bar—staring at her.

He looked tall, but it was hard to tell while he was sitting down as he sipped on his Old Fashioned. He wore a navy sports jacket over a white collared shirt, unbuttoned at the top. A classic, perfect blend of casual and professional. His dark blonde hair was neatly cropped, his beard thick. She preferred scruff on the face, but the beard suited him and she wondered what it would feel like between her legs. She shut such thoughts down, but it was hard as he stared at her.

Olfina dug a finger in her pearls, feeling like she was suddenly choking as she looked away from his prying eyes. It wasn’t that the man was just staring at her. His eyes were searing, intense, and refusing to look away. Her eyes glanced over at him again, unable to control their movements. He was still watching, a small smirk tugged at a corner of his mouth. There was something about him that had her sweating and shifting uncomfortably in her seat. She was glad she decided to wear black.

If she didn’t know better, she would say the man was undressing her with his eyes and she could almost feel it as he pulled away her clothes layer by layer in tantalizing slowness without lifting a finger. Maybe that was just fantasies running wild in her head, imagining things. Unable to pry her eyes away, she wished she could tell what color they were as he took a sip of his drink, watching her over the rim of his glass.

Gods, he was intense, but she was unable to take her eyes off of him. Her panties started to get wet as she shifted again on the stool, trying to find something to grind against. The man must have noticed as he gave her a bright smile. Olfina burned with heat along with the rest of her body. She wiped the beading sweat off her forehead with the back of her hand and pulled her eyes away from him. This was ridiculous. _How can a man’s stares heat me into a near frenzy?_ Olfina was determined not to look at him again and forced her eyes to remain on the TV showing the news with the sound off.

Her eyes darted to her right when she sensed the presence of someone sitting next to her. He wanted her attention alright and she wasn’t giving it to him, so he took it to the next level by sitting close to her. Without asking if she wanted more wine, he ordered another round of drinks. His voice was baritone with a slight accent she didn’t recognize. 

Words were not spoken as he looked down at her bare knees, the tops of her stockings peeking through the skirt of her dress. She tugged at the hem, pulling it back down over the stockings, but his hand grabbed her wrist, stopping her with a slight shake to his head. Olfina didn’t know why, but she withdrew her hand, allowing the stockings to show. A finger from his large hand trailed along the lacy edge and slipped under the nylon, touching her smooth skin. Why wasn’t she stopping him? Why was that simple touch turning her on so much her panties were soaked through?

She worried about a wet spot on the back of her dress if she stood up, so she shifted pulling it out from under her so it was only wet panty and vinyl touching. She brushed it off, telling herself she liked her dress too much to stain it with her juices, but she wasn’t being honest with herself. It was an invitation. 

Olfina dared look at the man, his dark blue eyes dilated in lust, hand growing bolder as he slid his palm over her thigh. Her breathing picked up, but she tried to steady it, not wanting the other woman and bartender to know what they were up to. Her heartbeat so hard in her chest, she wondered if the man could hear it. Was he feeling as hot as she was? Her heady arousal hit her nose, fueling her, her cunt leaking. The back of her mind hoped the others couldn’t smell what she could.

But he did as he whispered in her ear. “I love your smell.”

She picked up her wine with a shaking hand, taking a sip and careful not to slosh it over her beautiful dress as his hand snaked up her thigh. A finger tucked itself inside the elastic of her lace panties, slowly working its way through her core. Her blushing grew as it spread to her chest knowing he could feel how wet she was, what he was doing to her. Olfina looked at him again. His eyes were dark with lust and his own breathing picked up a notch. Good! At least he was feeling as hot and bothered as she was.

Holding her wine glass with two hands, she closed her eyes to control the groan threatening to escape her mouth as his finger brushed over her clit. The whole scene was so hot. She would have come right then and there had he not pulled his hand away. Her pussy felt bereft as she looked at him, knowing her eyes were conveying desperation. 

“Get your shoes on,” he ordered as he stood up, grabbing his carry-on. 

Olfina didn’t know what was going on but hoped he had more plans for them as she scrambled to get her shoes on. He dumped a wad of cash on the counter as she grabbed her jacket and her small suitcase. 

The man grabbed her hand and yanked her down the corridor. His strides were long, pace fast as she struggled to keep up, her heels clopping loudly on the floor as she ran behind him, afraid she was going to fall. She was grateful the airport was dead, with only a few people stranded. Surely they would wonder about this man yanking on a woman as she tried to keep pace. 

He burst through the lounge, impatient with the woman as she checked his boarding pass and ID. Into the elevator, the doors closed and he shoved her against the mirrored glass, his body pressed against hers. Her breath fogging up the glass as she panted. She felt his hard cock on her ass as her body trembled with lust if not a little fear. But it was short-lived as the doors opened. Olfina tried to regain her composure, but he yanked her forward as they made their way back to a secluded area. 

The man grabbed their suitcases and chucked them away, then tossed her jacket on the ground, bent down and yanked off her panties, leaving her stockings on. She knew they were soaked through, but he brought them to his nose in a moment of calm, inhaling her sex. The groan that escaped his mouth had her melting and yearning for him. 

He looked up with hungry eyes and pushed her back on the cushioned chair, shoving the panties in his coat pocket, then shoved up her dress. Fingers clenched her hips as he pulled her forward and forced her legs apart. But he didn’t suck on her as her pussy twitched in anticipation. She nearly thrust in his face in desperation, needing his tongue. Instead, the man unzipped his trousers and pulled out his cock, slowly stroking it, watching her. 

Olfina licked her lips as she saw precum bead at his tip. He held it out for her, encouraging her to wrap her lips tinged with fire engine red lipstick around him. She sat up and ran a gentle tongue over the slit of his cock, sucking up the sweet and salty nectar that came out of him. That musky smell of a man’s cock sent her over the edge. 

Not caring if anyone walked by or caught them, she grabbed him with her mouth as he shoved it deep down her throat. She gagged, her fingers clawing at his ass, but he grabbed her by the hair, not allowing her to escape. The raunchiness of the scene, something she never dared do except maybe in fantasy, had her leaking fluids, dripping down her thighs. There was something dirty about sucking the cock of a man she didn’t know in an airport under the bright lights. She loved it. It was as if this man, who didn’t even know her, knew her deepest, darkest desire as her eyes watered, drool spilling down her chin, choking on his cock.

The man groaned in frustration or desire; she couldn’t tell as he shoved her away. Gods looking at him out of sorts, hard cock hanging out while still dressed had her hips thrusting again. Unable to take it any longer, her hand rammed at her pussy as she went to work on her clit. She had to come. She was desperate for it. But he slapped her hands away, eyes like blue flames. He leaned in and ran a long tongue through the folds of her cunt all the way to her clit. His beard tickled her flesh and she found it strangely pleasing. If he did it one more time, she would come undone, but he pulled away and flipped her body over with little effort.

On his knees now, he shoved her face down into the chair and plunged into her. It hurt a bit at first, not easing into it, but she liked it. The pain eased as she leaked all over him, her thighs wet. The man pounded into her and she would have cared at the loud sound of slapping of flesh, feeling his balls hit her cunt, but she was delirious with lust and yearning. 

“Touch yourself,” he grunted in her ear.

Olfina’s fingers reached for her clit as she rubbed fast and furious. Between her touches and his thick cock pounding her, she was close, the ever familiar fire growing between her legs. It was the slip of a thumb in her tight ass that sent her over the edge. She screamed into the cushion as he yanked his cock out, spilling all over her ass. 

She lay there for a moment waiting for her mind to clear, pushing away doubts that forced their way in now that the lust died down. Olfina stood up, pulled down her dress, and looked over at the man. His cock was tucked neatly away in his trousers, his arms resting over the sides of the chair and his face had not a care in the world. It was as if none of what they did happened. She knew she didn’t look so composed.

Wobbling on shaking legs, she headed to the restroom to clean up, her suitcase close in tow. She wanted to scream in terror as soon as she saw her face in the mirror. Black mascara leaked down her face like stained tears, her red lipstick smeared across her face. Her hair was in knots and her dress was rumpled and covered in her juices as well as his. Olfina was a disaster to look at. Groaning, she opened her case and pulled out her makeup, hairbrush, and wipes to clean herself up. It was then she realized she didn’t have her panties; he did. She also changed her clothes, promising herself she would drop off her dress at the cleaners when she returned home.

When she stepped out of the restroom, satisfied she looked normal again, she looked around to find the man gone, along with her panties. A souvenir perhaps.

 _Shit_. That was one of the hottest and weirdest things she had ever done. Perhaps it was for the best he left. They barely said a word to each other. Now that she thought about it, she didn’t utter one word. What would they say to each other, anyway?

Olfina looked up at the ceiling hearing the announcer stating it was time for her to board. She ran to the boarding gate and walked to her seat in first class. The flight attendant brought her a glass of champagne per her request. She sipped on it remembering the lustful night with a strange and handsome man, a smile tugging at her lips. Part of her wished he was right next to her as he fingered her pussy in secret.

The next morning at the hotel, she double-checked her appearance, making sure she was ready for the meeting. She looked ready to rock. If all went well, her advertising company would have the up and coming cosmetic company in their pocket. Olfina also used their products and knew how good they were. Her company would do well for them as they grew.

The meeting room was large, and most of the seats were taken when she arrived. It had a fantastic view of Solitude. She looked out longingly as she set up her video to show all she created for the company. Maybe she would go shopping after. Sipping some water, she leaned back in the leather chair, legs crossed, gaging the men and women in the room. Olfina made it a habit to know her potential clients.

A minute before the meeting was to start, the CEO, Jon Battle-Born, walked in, dressed in a gorgeous charcoal gray suit and red tie. When he sat down, Olfina felt the blood drain from her face. The CEO wasn’t faring much better, looking at her, shocked. She was sure her face mirrored his. Then her eyes narrowed in anger, wondering if he knew who she was all along. _What game is this asshole playing?_

He stood up and walked over to her. “If you would please follow me, Ms. Gray-Mane. I need to speak to you before the meeting starts.”

Olfina coughed away nerves and nodded her head as the rest of the people eyed them, probably wondering what was going on.

She followed his brisk steps to an office. He opened the door but allowed her to walk in first, following behind. As soon as the door shut, she whirled on him, angry. “What the fuck is going on,” she hissed. Oh, she wanted to yell, jabbing a finger in his chest.

He was much more composed than she was. Her embarrassment from the night before with the strange man turned out to be her future client. What’s worse was she probably lost any chance of obtaining their business. _Fuck!_

“Trust me, I am as surprised as you are.” Gods, that voice. Hearing it again sent a shiver through her spine from the memories of their fuck fest in the airport lounge.

“Oh, so you just normally jump women’s bones you don’t know in airports and keep their panties? I’m sorry, but I find that hard to believe.” Her arms were folded and she was furious, but that didn’t stop her from lusting after him. 

“You were just as eager if I recall,” he said, a smirk on his face. “And yes, I wanted your panties.” How could he be smirking at a time like this? 

The man dug in his jacket and pulled out her black lace panties, pressing them to his nose. Olfina didn’t know whether to drop to her knees and suck him off at the sight or slap him. She tried to grab them from him, but he held them away, laughing.

“Oh, now you’re laughing at me!” she huffed.

“It is funny in a serendipitous kind of way. You have to admit.”

“I don’t have to admit anything,” she spat, still trying to get her panties back.

“Look, I don’t normally do that in airports or anywhere else. You can believe me or not. There was just something about you sitting there sipping your wine, watching your face as it burned down your throat. I watched you lift your thick hair on top of your head, amazed at how white it almost is. Such a contrast against the black dress and bright red flower printed on it. Fuck, and those luscious red lips of yours, imaging them wrapped around my cock. You had me enthralled. You still do.”

Olfina grew quiet, not knowing what to say about his confession.

“You brought out the animal in me, Ms. Gray-Mane. I didn’t think we were going to see each other ever again, so yes, I stole your panties to remember you by. They called our flight before you got out of the bathroom, not knowing you were on the same flight.” He stood closer to her, looking down at her. “I would have given you a long kiss goodbye otherwise.”

She wanted to believe him, but she struggled with it knowing a CEO would always fly first class. “That’s funny because I flew first class and didn’t see you there,” she said in her aha moment.

Again, he smiled at her. Why was he inching closer to her? “I was forced to sit in the back. It was the only seat left and I had to make it back for this meeting. Who knew you would be the very person of my desires sitting in my meeting room. Your beautiful pussy has been on my mind all night and morning.”

“Look, Mr. Battle-Born—”

“Jon. You need to call me Jon after the night we had,” he said, standing much too close. She could feel the heat coming off of him.

Olfina looked away from him. It was hard to resist the heat from his eyes. She wanted to be angry, but she believed him. No, she had to get away from him and back to the meeting before she did something else she was going to regret. As she stepped back, his arm latched around her, pulling close. His face lowered to her neck as he inhaled her. She could feel him harden on her thigh, her heat pooling her core. _Crap!_

“We… we, uhm… have a mee… meeting. They’re, uhm… waiting,” she stammered.

“Let them wait,” he grunted in her throat as he nibbled it.

She almost melted before sense took her. “No, stop! I am a professional, Mr. Battle-Born—”

“Jon—”

“Whatever. Last night was one thing, but I am trying to get you to be my client. I can’t let… whatever this is interfere.”

“Then you have our business,” he said, nibbling on her neck again.

Olfina tried to push him off to no avail. “What? You haven’t even seen my proposal yet.”

Jon sighed and sat upright, straightening his tie. “Fine, I guess we should pretend to the others that you are trying to sell yourself to the company. The business is yours. But before we head back there are two things I want from you?”

“Not if it means I won’t get the business if I don’t.”

“I’m not putting ultimatums on you,” he said, eyes narrowing at her. “I know you don’t know me, but give me some damned credit.”

“Fine, what do you want.”

And just like that he was all lust and smiles again. Jon bent down on his knees and lifted her skirt, brushing away her hands as she tried to stop him. Fingers locked around the elastic band of her panties, tugging. “I want these,” he said, pressing his lips against her thighs. Oh, those beard hairs, tickling, and prickling, turning her on. He slipped a finger in her cunt as she leaked all over him. _Fuck this man drove her pussy crazy!_

“Wha… what’s, uhm, the… other thing?” she asked, grasping for something with her hands to brace herself.

“I want you to have dinner with me tonight, then I’m going to eat you and fuck you properly. You are the hottest, sexiest, bravest woman I have ever known and I want you.”

Gods, his words had her almost taking him right on the desk behind her, but she maintained her control, though with great difficulty.

“I would like that,” she said.

He looked up, all smiles, and stood, kissing her on her cheek. Jon shoved her other pair of panties in his pocket and walked out back to the meeting room. He was going to force her to hold the meeting with no panties on. Why did she find that so fucking hot?

Olfina looked in her reflection in the windows to make sure she was composed. Satisfied, she walked out a happy woman knowing she had his business and his cock later that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments are always welcome and appreciated!


	16. Lair of Dragons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Dragonborn has been defeated and now belongs to the dovah, in particular to Alduin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I debated on posting this one. It's a bit more out there for me, but someone *cough* talked me into it. I'm looking at you, Solstice. :D
> 
> This is Dragonborn/Odahviign/Alduin (as humans, not dragons)
> 
> CW: Non-con elements

When Gerd opened her eyes, she wasn’t sure if she was alive or not. It was strange that she wasn’t in any pain as she moved around, trying to stand. She knew well enough she wasn’t Sovngarde because she was just there trying to defeat Alduin… _Alduin_. _Shit._ Gerd failed as the Dragonborn. All her training and preparing for his defeat was for nothing. She didn’t think she was dead, but she didn’t know where she was or how she got there.

Was the beast out there consuming everything? Was he killing all she knew and loved? The idea tore at her, but she shut down the emotions. It was something she was good at. She had to control herself to get as far as she did. But the tears slipped. There was nothing left to fight. There was no need to hold back the flood of emotions any longer.

Two years. For two long years, she trained to be a warrior, killed dragons, learned her Shouts, and for what? She fooled herself into believing a mere Nord could kill the mighty Alduin—a god. Gerd crumpled on the ground and sobbed into her hands. It was all over. Now all she could do was wait for the end. 

When she was done crying, she wiped away the snot and tears, stood to look around and figure out where she was. It was obviously a cave, but where? Which one? She didn’t recognize it and she had been in many over the course of two years. 

There was a fire keeping her warm, wondering who made it. 

“Hello,” she yelled out. All she could hear was the sound of rushing water and her echoing voice. No one responded.

It was hard to see what was around her in the dark, her only light source being the campfire. Walking around, she followed the sounds of water. She was thirsty and felt filthy. Her only consolation was there wasn’t any pain after the battle. Someone must have healed her, but why?

There was a small waterfall pouring into a large stream she could see as her eyes adjusted to the darkness. Gerd removed her armor and stepped into the shallow, yet frigid waters, stooping to gather water in her hands, and took a drink. Goosebumps trailed across her skin from the cold water, but she took a quick bath to rid herself of the dirt, blood, and stink. Then she tackled her long blonde hair, pulling out leaves, twigs, and knots.

Cold now, she rushed back to the dying fire. Someone laid wood out, so she grabbed a log, tossing it in as the flames reignited. 

Her stomach growled in hunger as she warmed her hands. Soon, she was going to have to find a way out of there otherwise she was going to starve to death. What did it matter, anyway? She was going to die along with the rest of the world. Perhaps she should just starve herself to death.

With nothing to do, for now, Gerd curled up on the ground by the fire and fell asleep.

The beating of large wings and the rumbling ground startled her awake. Gerd jumped up and reached for her sword on instinct, forgetting she had no weapons. Whoever brought her there, left her gear behind. The only thing she had were her Shouts, so she readied herself, waiting to see who her enemy was.

The dragon stalked over to her, its movements slow. She couldn’t see him until he reached the firelight. With his red scales, she knew exactly who he was. “Odahviing,” she hissed. “I failed in killing Alduin, so are you here to kill me now?” Perhaps it was for the best. At least she would die fighting.

“I’m not here to kill you, _dovahkiin_. Though perhaps you should just be known as _joor_. You were not strong enough.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

The dragon slinked around her, closer now, bumping his nose on her backside as she slumped forward. “Hey!” Then she realized she was still naked. Gerd rushed to get her armor on, but the dragon blocked her way with his tail. 

“At least give me the fucking dignity to die in battle with my armor on, dragon!”

“There will be no battle, _joor_. I have brought you… food. An animal. You cook and eat, yes? We will wait here for our master and lord, who had me bring you here.”

“You brought me here? Why?” she asked, shocked by this bit of news.

“I do as Alduin bids me, hmm.”

“And did that damned lizard tell you why he wants me here and not dead?”

“It is not for me to question my lord.”

Gerd scoffed. “Question? You outright backstabbed him by bringing me to Skuldafn.”

She could have sworn the red dragon smiled at her. “At my lord’s request, of course. Do you really believe that I, Odahviing, Alduin’s second in command, would betray him? Foolish _joor_.”

_Shit_. The whole thing had been a set up from the beginning. Was Paarthurnax involved too? Gerd tried to control the tears. Not only had she failed, but she was betrayed, made to believe she was destined to defeat Alduin. She was a fucking fool. The realization hit her like a ton of bricks. What a waste of two years.

She forced the tears back, refusing to give in again. Once was enough. “So why keep me alive if he’s going to destroy this world? He is called the ‘World Eater’ for a reason.”

Odahviing, nudged her again with his nose, it was gentle, but he was five times her size as she fell over on her hands and knees. “He has other plans.”

_Other plans? Great._ _Wait does that mean everyone lives?_ Gerd tried to get up, but the dragon pushed her down again. “Stop that! Wait…” she pleaded, trying to get away.

The red dragon placed a large clawed foot on her back, careful not to dig in his talons, and dragged her back close to him. She tried to scramble away from him, but he was too strong. He nuzzled his nose against her flesh, inhaling deeply. When he exhaled, his breath was warm, pouring out of large nostrils, ridding her of any chill.

“Stop!” she said, fighting her way out of his grasp. “So, does that mean everyone lives?” She had to ask.

“Only if they serve Alduin. The people must bow down to him.”

“As slaves you mean?” she spat.

“They live, do they not?”

“Sometimes there are worse things than death.”

“You say that like you have a choice,” the dragon laughed. It was more of a rumble, but she still noted the humor.

Gerd finally managed to escape his claws, but he didn’t chase after her either. Why did she feel like a mouse and Odahviing was the cat? Yes, he chose to let her go. She didn’t just escape. When she turned, she didn’t see just a dragon. She watched in horror and fascination as he shrunk and changed. Scales turned to flesh, claws turned to hands and feet. It was fast and took little effort.

“How… how did… what…?” she sputtered, unable to form words. Why did the fact that the dragon looked like a massive Nord frighten her?

Odahviig was bigger than any Nord, but he looked like one with his bright red hair and pale skin. His naked body gleamed with muscle. The face was handsome. The only thing animalistic in him was his yellow eyes. She looked down between his legs to see a massive cock, hard. _Fuck_.

He waved his hands out laughing. “Like you, we are part human, part dragon. We choose to remain dragons. Unlike us, you cannot change to a dragon.”

Gerd ignored him and ran to get her armor, but he blocked her way as she crashed into his massive and hard body, falling on her ass. Laughing, Odahviing plucked up her armor, walked it over to the rushing waters, and dropped it in. “There, that will stop you from trying to put it on.”

She stood there in shock at the loss of her armor, but she remained silent.

Odahviing walked back to her and grabbed her hand. It was gentle as he tugged her over by the fire. “Sit,” he ordered as he grabbed the animal he brought to her, tearing chunks off with his bare hands, throwing them on the fire to cook. 

The smell of burning meat had her salivating in her hunger, her stomach rumbling. The dragon, no man, laughed at her again. He sat down and pulled her down with him.

“What the fuck is going on?” she asked, her shock easing away.

“We are to wait for our lord.”

After her meal, they sat in silence, but he not once took his yellow eyes off of her. He sat cross-legged, facing her. At least he wasn’t erect any longer. He reached out to her and like lightning, brought her face to his. Her eyes grew wide as his tongue crept out of his mouth, drawing it across her lips. It wasn’t a kiss. He was… licking her. 

“Blood,” he said as if it explained everything. “Dragons must maintain cleanliness for our lord.” Then he lifted one of her hands, shoving a finger in his mouth, sucking away from the blood that dried there. 

Gerd wanted to tell him to shove it and that she wasn’t a dragon, but she was stunned, unable to move. It intrigued her watching this dragon in the shape of a man, suck on her finger. Humor never left his eyes as he watched her. Why did she like it? Feeling his wet mouth and soft tongue wrapping around her digits. When Odahviing was done, he lifted her other hand and cleaned that one too. She swallowed hard, her heart palpitating, trying to ignore the heat building up around her. The entire scene was sexual in a strange way, but she didn’t think that was the dragon’s intention. Never had a man bathed her like that with his tongue. 

Odahviing stopped smiling as his pupils darkened, sniffing the air, looking right at her. Gerd wanted to back up, but she couldn’t move. She was transfixed as he stared at her. He bent over, nose pressed up against her throat. She could hear him take a deep breath, then released a growl in her neck, sending a wave of chills across her skin. With a massive hand pressed against her chest, he shoved her on her back, continuing to inhale her body. His face worked its way down, down, between her legs.

That startled her out of her stupor and scrambled back, but he grabbed her legs and dragged her back to him, spreading her. His nose was pressed up against her cunt, sniffing. She didn’t know whether to be turned on or terrified. She should have been mortified, but she wasn’t. Either way, the heat seared through her as she leaked out wetness. Gerd tried to move back again, but the dragon held on, far too strong for her. 

“You are heat,” he said, his voice guttural, reminding her of the animal he was. 

With one hand pressed against her chest, holding her down, his knees kept her legs spread. His other hand explored her pussy, digging, spreading, touching. Odahviing drew his wet fingers to his nose, taking in her scent, and licked. Gods, why did she like this. She was terrified but the whole scene made her cunt burn as if on fire.

His thick fingers reached deep inside, pulling out more of her juices, licking it off his. His golden eyes flashed and with two hands, he spread her legs wide, shoving his face to her core as he lapped up her wetness. He was licking her like she was a meal rather than trying to please her, but she burned for him to drag his tongue over her clit. Her hips rutted and moved until his tongue hit that spot, sending a jolt through her body, but he moved again. Dammit! What was she doing? It was crazy, she thought as she grabbed his red hair in fists, yanking his head down to guide his mouth where she wanted it.

It was the first time since his arrival that he let her have any control. Gerd screamed out into the cave, her voice echoing, reverberating back into her ears as if she was hearing someone else yell out. The orgasm was strong as her body shuddered as wave after wave crashed over her. It was too much as she tried to shove him away, but he held on, consuming all he could. Another orgasm hit her, leaving her weak on her back as he continued to lap up her juices. 

When Gerd felt more warmth spread through her, she had to put a stop to it lest she passes out. “Wa… wait. Stop, please…,” she whimpered, hardly recognizing her own mewling voice.

“No, I must consume you.”

She had to find a way to get him to stop. As she struggled to sit up, she tried to push away the heat spreading through her again. Then she had an idea. “It’s… it’s your turn.”

_Success!_ The dragon, man, looked up, her juices dripping from his chin. She would have laughed under any other circumstance, but this was not that time. “Sit up,” she ordered as she pushed herself up finally, without being shoved back down.

Odahviing was on his knees, his erection on high alert, his eyes expectant, staring at her cunt as he licked his lips. Gods, did she want to do this? This was by far the strangest thing she had ever been through and she had been through a lot the past two years. Gerd sighed in resignation and made her way over to him, sitting on her knees as he was. She reached out and his cock jumped at her touch. At least his eyes were on her hand instead of her pussy.

She fisted his hardness and gave him a few pumps. His eyes widened at the sensation. Have these dragons never fucked before? In a strange way, the idea made them less terrifying. She bent over and ran her tongue along his shaft, hearing him hiss, but he didn’t move a muscle. Her tongue swirled on his tip and the creature actually whimpered. It seemed she was the one with the power now as she wrapped her mouth around him. He was large and was unable to get him entirely in her mouth, but she went as far as she could as she pumped her mouth up and down his cock. Seconds later he was already coming, spilling large amounts of seed. 

“More,” he cried out. “I want more.”

“M… more?” She looked down and he was still hard. Gerd couldn’t hide her shock. She hoped that once he orgasmed it would be over. 

Odahviing shoved her onto her back again, shoving her legs apart, nuzzling her pussy again. “Wait…”

“No.”

“Odahviing,” she said, choosing to use his name, remembering it was also a Shout. 

“More,” he said, but his voice wavered when he heard his name. “I will fit,” he said. She realized what he meant as he plunged his cock deep inside her, not giving her a chance to react or adapt. The pain tore into her, thanking all the gods she was as wet as she was. After several thrusts, the pain subsided and she was filled with pleasure once more as he hit deep inside her. 

“More,” he grunted in her neck. Gerd wasn’t sure how much more she could take or if he planned to fuck her to death. 

The massive Nord lifted her and stood up as he slipped even deeper inside. She had no choice but to wrap her legs around him lest they dangle there as he pounded her. Her head lolled back from both pleasure and pain, feeling her body wracked with another orgasm, slicking his cock with her juices. He must have sensed it as he growled in pleasure, at least it sounded that way. 

The ground soon trembled beneath them. Dread filled the pit of her stomach through her orgasm induced mind, knowing Alduin arrived.

Odahviing pulled her off of him, dropping her to the ground as he fell on one knee, bowing to his lord. 

Gerd looked up to watch her nemesis change into human form, not uttering a word but moved closer to the red dragon man as if he would protect her. Alduin was even bigger than Odahviing. His hair and eyes were black, his skin dark. Where the red dragon had a permanent smile on his face, Alduin was all scowl. 

“You’ve done well, Odahviing,” he said, his voice deep and dangerous. He lifted her head to look into her eyes. She knew there was fear in her eyes, but she was too tired and sore to show bravery or defiance. “What is wrong with her?”

“I… my lord? Can you not smell it?” Odahviing said.

Alduin raised his nose in the air, inhaling deeply. “Yes. It’s… intoxicating. What is it?”

Odahviing grabbed her, pulling her to his chest, her back pressed up against him as he spread her legs. Gerd tried to scramble away, not needing another tongue bath, but he held firm. 

Giggles threatened to bubble over seeing Alduin prostrate before her, face in between her legs. She must have been going crazy to laugh at the situation she was in. She held it back for the most part, except for that one snort that escaped.

Alduin looked up, face conveying nothing other than narrowed eyes. “You dare laugh?”

The giggles finally spilled at the outrageousness of the situation. “You have to admit, seeing the Great Alduin prostrate between my legs is pretty ironic.” That was a mistake.

He reached as fast as lightning, fisting her hair to near painful proportions. “I bow to no one, _joor!_ You are mine now.”

Gerd wanted to be defiant, but she was weak, her laughter vanished as quickly as it came. She was tired of fighting. If they wanted to lap her pussy into nothingness, then so be it. 

Alduin let go of her hair and nuzzled her pussy once more. His tongue was searing hot as it trailed through her folds. She felt the heat build again, dripping juices as he lapped them up. 

“She’s delicious, yes?” Odahviing asked.

Alduin just grunted his confirmation as he devoured her. When her body jolted as his tongue grazed her clit, he focused on it, looking too intrigued by her reaction to him. Odahviing lifted her thighs, pulling them back, spreading her further for his lord. Her head fell back accepting the sensation. She was close and gave in to it as she reached out, tangling her fingers in Alduin's long black hair, pulling his face into her. There was something about his hot tongue that sent shivers through her body, jolting which each brush of his tongue on her clit. The explosion and juices came again and again as Alduin sucked it up with greed. Then another orgasm. 

“Please… no more,” she whimpered. “Please…”

“She gets tired. Put it inside her,” the red dragon suggested.

Alduin sat up as Odahviing showed his lord what he meant. He stood and lifted her upright, forcing his cock into her once more. Gerd was tired, weak, hanging limply as he plowed into her. Her head was nestled in Odahviing’s neck, letting him have his way, but she jolted up when she felt prying fingers enter the tight hole of her ass. _Oh, no he doesn’t!_ Alduin’s cock started poking in, trying to shove himself through her ass. He wasn’t going to fit!

Gerd climbed up Odahviing’s body, away from Alduin’s cock, but the red dragon held firm. “No, no, no. You won’t fit. it will hurt! You will tear me up,” she begged.

“You are mine,” Alduin said, yanking her head back by her hair. 

He worked his cock slowly into her ass as she cried in pain. A heat spread through her as his hand slid across her ass and cunt, sending the waves of pain away. Gerd grew limp and whimpered in relief. Odahviing was still in her pussy and Alduin worked his way into her ass. Her head fell back into Alduin’s shoulder as he and the red dragon pumped into her, stretching her, filling her. 

_This is where I die. I will go do Sovngarde and they will ask how I died. I died by sex, I will say, and they will all laugh_. Another orgasm tore through her again, her ass and cunt full as both dragons came in her, pounding away. 

But she didn’t die. Gerd woke up, not knowing how long she slept, not remembering falling asleep. She wondered if she passed out, memories flashing of more pussy lapping. She was cocooned by warmth. As her eyes opened, she looked to see she was sandwiched in by Alduin and Odahviing, both of whom were sleeping. Quietly, she pried herself away and walked over to the water to clean up. She took a deep draught of cold and freshwater, then bathed away the sex. Alduin must have healed her all the way because she suffered no pain. She was just tired.

When she got out of the water, she came to an abrupt halt seeing Alduin stand before her. It was too dark to see his face, but she knew it was him. 

“You are mine.”

She couldn’t help but roll her eyes. “So you said.”

Gerd was resigned to the fact. She lost the battle and she was his prize. It was better than being dead she supposed. If sex was the worst of it, then so be it.

As she brushed by him, he yanked her back by her hair, forcing her to look up at him. He reached up and ran a finger across her lips. “ _Joor_ touch here, no?”

She didn’t know what he was talking about when it dawned on her. “You mean we kiss? Yes. We like to do that.”

When Alduin remained silent, she gently pried his fingers tangled in her hair. “Would you like to be kissed? Is that what you’re asking?”

“Yes.”

_Interesting._ “Okay, well, you’re going to have to bend down because I can’t reach you.”

Instead, Alduin lifted her in his arms, her feet dangling, until they were face to face. This day couldn’t get more weird. Or was it the second day? Placing two hands on his face, heat pouring off of his flesh, she pulled him towards her and placed her lips on his. It was stiff and awkward. Gerd pulled away daring to look up at her new lord and master. His eyes looked confused, unsatiated. To be fair, the kiss was terrible. He was probably wondering why _joor_ like to do it so much.

This time, when she pressed her lips to his, she pried his mouth open with her tongue, exploring his mouth and encouraging him to do the same. “If you want to properly kiss, you’re going to have to do what I do,” she explained after pulling away.

Again, lips met and tongues sought as Alduin followed her lead. His breath was like lingering smoke from an extinguished fire. More strangeness as she believed Alduin would never be told what to do and here he was letting her be in charge. When she pulled away, he had a strange look on his face, like a mixture of lust and confusion. 

“Well? Do you like a _joor_ kiss or not?”

“I am thinking.”

_Fair enough_. Gerd took the opportunity in his weakness to pump him with questions.

“Is this cave to be my new home? Am I never to see the light again?”

“No, this is… temporary,” he replied, voice deep, threatening though he wasn’t angry. “I did not want you to escape. The only way out is with wings.” He was still holding her close.

Now for the moment of truth. “Why, Alduin—”

“I am your lord,” he said, as his eyes narrowed and darkened if that was possible.

“Why… my lord? Why am I here and not dead?”

“You are mine.”

“Yes! I…” _Calm down_. She was tired of his hair pulling. “Yes, my lord. I am aware of this fact. But why am I yours? You or I should have died.”

Alduin laughed. The damned lizard actually laughed. “I cannot die. I am no _joor_. I am a god.”

“Fair enough,” she said through gritted teeth, feeling a little humiliated. It was a reminder that she was destined to fail. “I am a _joor_. Surely I am nothing to you.”

“You are, _dovahkiin_.”

Gerd realized she was never going to get a straight answer out of him. Perhaps there was no true answer. He wanted her, so he was going to have her. It was as simple as that. The simplistic mind of a tyrant. They felt deserved so they took.

“So what now, my lord?”

“I will take you back to Skuldafn soon. It is my home.”

Tossing her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, he walked them back to camp. “You belong to the _dovah_ now and it is time for you to feed me,” he said.


	17. The Jarl, Steward and Housecarl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sounds like a joke right? Where's the punchline you ask. The punchline is the Steward and Housecarl get to have a bit of fun at the expense of Jarl Siddgeir. He's got a naughty fetish side to him, and Nenya and Helvard are willing to give it to him... to do their duty for their Jarl. But when Siddgeir wants something, he will insist on having it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> M/M/F
> 
> Kudos to Solstice for how we now refer to Jarl Siddgeir... Douche Canoe. I don't know what a Douche Canoe is, but it seems apt ;D

It had been a long day for Nenya. Every day was a long day. Jarl Siddgeir wasn’t the most pleasant sort of person to work for, but she did her best to make his life easier and that of Falkreath Hold. She had been a Steward for decades, first under Jarl Dengeir, now it was under Siddgeir, his nephew. Days were simpler when the old Jarl cared. Siddgeir was young and impetuous, and Nenya did her best to temper him. 

As the Jarl was getting ready for bed, the Altmer entered his room to assist him before sleep as she did every night. Siddgeir was sitting in his chair by the table waiting for her. 

“It took you long enough,” he complained. 

Nenya made nothing of it. The young man always complained. She kept her mouth shut and let him have his gripes. 

As per routine, she eased his robe off his shoulders and massaged them along with his neck with her long fingers, digging out knots. 

“Divines, Nenya, you have wonderful fingers.”

It was rare for him to give a compliment, so he must have been in a good mood. When her massage was done, she stood in front of him and dipped the soap in the warm water from the bowl and ran it through the stubble of his chin, lathering it. Then she grabbed the sharp blade and made slow, precise swipes, cutting away the day’s whiskers. The man liked to be clean-shaven each night. As she cleaned his face, the Steward felt tentative and gentle fingers slip in between the fabric of her robe, reaching for her soft skin. The fingers danced up and up until one slipped into her pussy, digging around until wetness formed. Nenya spread her legs just enough to give him more access. He enjoyed his touches as she worked to get him ready for bed.

When it first happened, it shocked her, but now it had become part of the routine. She wore a robe each night, with nothing underneath, in case he needed more from her. No wonder he was in a good mood despite having a bad day—his words. The Jarl didn’t do this every night, but it was often enough. 

He shoved her hands away, nearly nicking him with the blade, and pulled away fabric to expose her mound. He bent his face towards her, spreading her folds, drawing a tongue up and up to her clit. Nenya, with gentleness, pushed him back. “We are not done yet, my Jarl.”

The man pouted like a petulant child. “But I want it!” 

“And you shall. Patience, my lord.”

With no other choice, he continued to finger her as she washed the soap from his face and set about combing his hair. When she was done, she placed the comb gently on the table, and when the Jarl stood up, she helped him remove his robe, folding it neatly on the chair. 

Jarl Siddgeir was naked, standing before her. “Can I suck you for a while before we begin?”

“Yes, my Jarl.” 

The only way she allowed him to suck her was if he was on his knees in front of her. He may have run the entire Hold of Falkreath, but at night she ran him. It was the only time he didn’t complain. Surely the man must have been lonely, but he refused to look for a wife. Nenya was his only outlet. The Jarl had a specific need and there wouldn’t be many women out there willing to give it to him as a wife. 

Jarl Siddgeir tried to yank her towards him, but she slapped away his hand. It was the only time he tolerated such treatment. “You know the rules, my lord.”

He dropped to his knees in front of her. He was hard already as long fingers pried through her folds, seeking out her warmth and wetness. Soon, his lips were on her pussy, licking, savoring her. It was the only time he treated her with respect, taking his time to make sure she had the most pleasure. His tongue swirled on her clit as she felt the first shudders of heat and desire. Before she reached the tipping point, she gently pushed him away. Nenya didn’t like to come until the end. 

“I want more,” he whined. 

“I know you do, but you know the rules, my Jarl. Assume the position,” she ordered, her normally gentle and soft voice turned hard and firm.

Jarl Siddgeir scrambled onto his bed, his chest pressed to his thighs, ass in the air. Nenya climbed on the bed and wrapped the thick cloth around his eyes she pulled out of the drawer, tying it behind his head. His arms were already behind his back like a good boy as she tied them together tightly. When he was prepared, she opened his bedroom door to let Helvard in, his Housecarl. 

The Jarl never knew it was his Housecarl that was involved in their little games, but he never asked. Perhaps it was the mystery that turned the man on so much. 

Helvard pulled Nenya into a tight embrace, pressing his lips firmly on hers, shoving his tongue in her mouth. They had known each other for a long time, but not once got together until Jarl and his fantasies. She struggled to find someone to join in and meet the Jarl’s needs until she took the risk and asked Helvard. He too would do anything for his Jarl. Now she and the Housecarl were lovers outside of the Jarl’s chambers.

As he undressed, she wanted to suck him, but that was the Jarl’s job tonight. They took their time as Jarl Siddgeir would sit and squirm while they had a little fun, building up the anticipation. He never uttered a word until they were ready for him. 

First came the humiliation with his ass in the air. She didn’t question it the day he asked her to spank him, doing it because he needed her to. She had a wooden paddle especially made for him from someone she could trust. It saved her hand a lot of stinging and he liked the extra pain it gave him.

She smacked the paddle against her hand and the sound made the Jarl flinch. Nenya sauntered over as his ass wiggled to and fro, waiting with eager anticipation for the first hit. 

“So, we’ve been a bad boy today. You must feel guilty for your behavior to be so eager and ready for your punishment,” she said.

“I’ve been bad, mama,” he said, feigning a whimper. “So very bad. I’m sorry.”

“Sorry isn’t good enough.”

“What can I do to fix things, mama?”

Nenya waited for a minute before answering, then gave him a quick but loud thwack on his ass with the paddle. The sound resonated through his chambers as he grunted. It left a large red mark, but she knew there would be more. “You are going to take twenty spankings, then you have to suck cock tonight. If you stay a good boy after that, your ass can get fucked and have some pussy. Would you like that? Can you be a good boy?”

“Yes, mama! I will be good.”

“Very well, take your punishment, then.”

The spankings came in rapid bursts, each time harder than the next. By the time she neared the end of her count, he was squirming under her power. Nenya had to admit there was something gratifying about smacking the Jarl painfully after he’d been a jerk earlier that day. The drawback was he enjoyed it too much. He loved to be humiliated in private.

When she was done, she put the paddle back in its drawer and nodded to Helvard who sat on the bed, legs sprawled in front of Siddgeir’s head. The Housecarl gripped Jarl’s hair, leading his mouth to his hard cock. While he was getting situated, Nenya, rubbed the Jarl’s ass with tender care, then prepared his tight hole for fucking while he sucked Helvard. Jarl Siddgeir liked women, but for some reason, he loved getting fucked in the ass. He would struggle to find a woman to give that to him one day when he decided to finally marry. 

Her oily fingers dug deep, stretching him as he sucked his Housecarl, not knowing it was him. The Jarl assumed she brought in a man she could trust. She did, but just not who he thought. 

It was hard for the Jarl to latch on to his Housecarl’s cock, so Helvard had to help him along, guiding it into the Jarl’s mouth. He grabbed Siddgeir’s head by the hair again and shoved him down until he heard gagging. When he felt the Jarl couldn’t take anymore, he let him up long enough to gasp for air before shoving his face down again.

Helvar never uttered a word the entire time. Always remaining silent to keep his identity a secret. 

“How’s that cock, my lord? Is it to your liking?”

Helvard lifted up his head by his hair to let him speak. “Yes, he’s perfect, mama” he gasped and sputtered, saliva dripping down his chin. His head was shoved down again, gagging as she now worked three fingers in his ass. 

When she felt he had enough, she nodded to Helvard to get up. “Are you ready to get fucked and have some pussy, my lord? You’ve been well-behaved tonight.”

“Yes… please.”

“Yes, please, what?”

“Yes, please, mama.”

Jarl Siddgeir insisted on calling her mama during their times in the evenings, assuming he had mother issues, who died years ago. Again, she didn’t question it, doing as she was told.

“Are you sure you’re going to be a good boy? I would hate to punish you again.” 

Nenya took the place of Helvard, climbing into bed, shoving her cunt into his face. He tried to lick her, but she yanked him up by the hair. “I thought you said you were going to be good, my lord.”

“I’m sorry, mama. I couldn’t help it. Your cunt smells so good.”

“Very well, but don’t let it happen again. You must wait until your ass is full. You know the rules.”

“Yes, mama.”

Helvard readied his cock, slathering it in oil. He held it ready as he slowly worked into the Jarl’s ass. The Housecarl wasn’t small by any means, but she hoped she worked the Jarl enough to accommodate him. There was only a little whimpering coming from him as he took Helvard’s large cock.

With another nod from Nenya, Helvard started to thrust in and out of the Jarl’s ass. That was Siddgier’s cue to suck on her pussy. She spread her folds, giving him greater access to her wetness and clit. At least the man knew how to work his tongue. Her eyes grew heavy at the sensation, feeling the heat build as she watched Helvard fuck her Jarl. 

As they looked at each other getting off on their Jarl from both ends, they tuned him out and it was only them. Helvard imagined it was Nenya he was fucking and she imagined Helvard sucking her. She reached out her hands as he grabbed them, yanking him to pound the Jarl as his face and tongue dug deeper into her cunt, licking her clit. They were connected, sharing their joint orgasms through holding hands.

Helvard was the first to spill in the Jarl’s as, then Nenya soon followed, pulsing in the Jarl’s mouth, leaking her juices all over his lovely linens as he slurped up as much as he could. She knew he enjoyed sleeping in her wet spot.

After the Housecarl left the room, she untied her Jarl and removed the blindfold watching him adjust to the dim light of the room, kissing his forehead as a mother might. “How do you feel, my lord. Do you feel better?”

His face was surly, though, after all that work. “He didn’t make me come this time. I didn't get to come.” More pouting.

“I am sorry, my lord. Let me take care of that for you,” she said, reaching for his cock.

“No, I want to fuck you.”

“You know the rules.”

“Fuck your rules!” Now he was back to his old self.

“I have no problems stopping this game of yours permanently, my lord.” She had to sway him otherwise he would rape her. She knew he wasn’t past doing something like that, wishing Helvard was still in the room.

As the Jarl rutted, trying to penetrate her, but she got the upper hand, by crawling out from under him and flipping him over onto his back. She didn’t look into his angry eyes. She knew well enough what he was feeling. Straddling him, she worked her body down, down until she was face to face with his cock. 

This was not a new development. They’ve played this game before, and every time, she stopped him in his tracks with her mouth. The only cock she wanted to fuck her was Helvard’s. Nenya never allowed the Jarl to do it. He could suck her, finger her, punish her with his own paddle, but no fucking.

The Jarl calmed down as she sucked him. His fingers tangled in her hair, dragging her head down deeper, gagging her, but she was ready for it. As he came in her mouth, she swallowed and readied herself for what was next. It was her turn to be punished for defying him. Her punishment wasn’t sexual. The Jarl was serious, but no matter how much punishment she received, she would never waver in her rules. The only way to satisfy him was to let the Jarl punish her.

“Bring it to me,” he ordered as she wiped her mouth of his cum that spilled down her face. 

“Yes, my Jarl.” Nenya walked back to the drawer and pulled out the paddle she used on him earlier, handing it to him. 

“Assume the position.”

His Steward draped her body over his lap, arms reaching to the ground, her ass in the air, giving him access to her. He was not gentle as he smacked her with the paddle over and over. Nenya would struggle to sit the next day, she knew well enough.

Each smack became worse than the next as the tears spilled. Finally, after thirty whacks that she had to count out loud, she was allowed to leave. Nenya always took it because it was better than being fucked by him.

Wiping her tears, she put her robe back on and left his chambers, and walked back to hers. The guards had to know what was going on as they watched her, but none dared to say anything. At least she had tomorrow night to look forward to. It was her night with Helvard with no Jarl to disrupt them.

The next morning, after she helped the Jarl get ready for the day, all smiles now, probably pleased with himself for the beating he gave her. Nenya ignored him and did all she was told, accepting her station in life. She was fine with it and continued to give all her Jarl needed and wanted. 

As she stood behind the throne with Helvard while citizens came in asking for help, they looked at each other. The Housecarl’s eyes were filled with concern, knowing what happened. As he inched closer to her, his eyes grew mischievous. She knew that look. It was a game they’ve played often in spite of the Jarl. 

Helvard reached out a hand with all the subtlety he could muster, making sure no one could see as he lifted her robes, exposing her ass and pussy. He knew she wouldn’t be wearing anything underneath from the pain to her ass. There was concern on his face, but he wanted to please his woman and make her feel better. His hand slipped between the crease of her ass, reaching for her cunt. 

She loved his touch and it didn’t take much to get her wet. Once she was wet, he moved his hand to her front and sought out her clit, rubbing slowly as she gyrated just enough to not get noticed. Her breathing picked up, and the heat built through her face, hoping no one took notice. As she felt the pressure increase between her legs, she gripped the back of the throne, knuckles turning white as she came in Helvard’s hand. She bit her cheek to keep the moan in as she pulsed, wave after wave until it finally subsided. 

Nenya was weak-kneed, making it hard to stand, but she suffered it. It was worth it to receive Helvard’s attention as well as doing it behind Jarl Siddgeir’s back right in his own throne room. He never did figure out what they were up to.


	18. The Future Queen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elisif is about to wed the High King Torygg. When Sanguine gets word about the marriage and finds out the woman is still a virgin, he has other plans for her. With is meddling, soon, the future Queen and her Lady in Waiting, a spy for the Thalmor are exploring more than they expected.
> 
> Elisif/Original Female Altmer Character

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, it's a virginal queen who doesn't know what to do so has her Lady in Waiting help out trope.
> 
> This is an expanded version of a story I am currently writing about Sanguine.

The news spread far and wide across Skyrim’s lands and beyond about the future Queen soon to wed High King Torygg in two days’ time. As the city of Solitude prepared for the grand festivities, the news soon reached Misty Grove and into Sanguine’s ears. Just when he found the orgies and pranks growing dull, he perked up, finding out that Elisif was a virgin. He paced in the grass, contemplating ideas on what to do with that tidbit of information. Indeed there was something interesting he could do. The Daedric Prince of Hedonism couldn’t pass up the opportunity to involve himself in such matters as a virgin Queen. Elisif the Fair, they call her. Fair indeed. He giggled in delight. Yes, giggled.

With a wave of his hand, he was in her bed chambers unseen to mortals. The room was empty at the moment, but it was close to her bedtime, and surely she was bound to get ready for sleep. There was a table with a decanter of wine and two goblets ready and waiting for the mistress. Excellent! He pulled out a vial, he poured the contents into the wine, and disappeared again when he heard the voices of two women approaching. It was all ready. The wine was spiked with his special elixir, looking forward to seeing what trouble brewed from drinking it.

As he waited in the dark corner, Elisif walked in, followed by her Lady in Waiting, Faryan, a Thalmor spy. She was assigned to the young woman to ensure loyalty to the Empire, thus loyalty to the Aldmeri Dominion. If there was a hint at rebellion, Faryan was to report back to the Embassy nearby. Sanguine rubbed his hands in anticipation. _This should be good._ Spiked wine, a future virgin Queen, and a Thalmor spy. What could be more fun?

Elisif sat down at her vanity table in front of the large looking glass, sipping her wine Faryan handed her. She didn’t appear to be a woman who was about to marry the most powerful man in the Empire, next to the Emperor. She looked uncertain, nervous. Of course, who could blame the young woman? She was only nineteen Winters. The young woman took another large gulp of wine and set down her cup, her hands and fingers fretted in her lap as Faryan combed her long blonde hair. Her job was to spy on the woman and the future King, but she had to play her part and take care of her mistress. It was a distasteful job, but a worthy one.

“What is wrong, my lady? You look like you just lost your puppy,” Faryan said as she combed.

“Oh, it’s… nothing,” said the shy future Queen.

“Come now, my lady. You aren’t fooling me.” The Lady in Waiting took a long sip of her wine, then resumed her combing.

Elisif drank some more before responding. “As you know, I’m still quite young. I…”

“Do go on,” Faryan prodded, trying not to roll her eyes. She may have to work for the woman, but she had no love for her.

“I’m… oh, I’m just nervous.”

“Are you worried about your consummation of marriage to the King, milady?” asked Faryan. 

Elisif’s hands fisted in themselves as she looked down, nodding. “I… I don’t know what to do.”

Faryan took another sip of her spiked wine, a knowing smile on her face when the future Queen wasn’t looking. “Are you saying you don’t know how it all works?” It was hard to control her laughter at the fretful woman.

The future Queen blushed beautifully. “I… I know where… it goes if that’s what you mean. I’m saying, I… how do I please him?”

Faryan gave a reassuring smile at the shy woman. “Well, while it is good you want to please the King, he should please you too. It goes both ways. If he loves you, then he will try to make you happy in the bedroom.”

“Oh? I… why would he? He wants heirs.”

“Yes, of course, he wants heirs. But he should love you too. Making love doesn’t have to be all work. It should also be pleasurable. The word is he is a kind and fair man. Not all royalty or nobles are kind to their women. I’m sure he will be good to you.”

“I hope so,” Elisif said, but that didn’t seem to appease her nervousness as her hands still fisted and wrapped around each other in her lap. “How… how would he go about pleasing me or me pleasing him? Oh, I don’t know what to do!”

Faryan coughed to hide her laughing at the young woman. “Do you not touch yourself, milady?”

Her pink blush turned bright red and shook her head. 

“Never?” The Lady in Waiting couldn’t hide her surprise as she stopped combing, looking down at Elisif. 

“I… they ordered me not to. My family was afraid if I did, I would find a lover and risk my virginity.” 

“How unfortunate. That’s quite the self-control you have, my lady.”

Elisif stopped the elf’s fussing over her hair, shoving her hands away, and stood facing her, her robe slipping off, showing a bare shoulder and breast. “It’s hot in here. Is it hot in here?” she asked, fanning her face with a hand, not realizing her exposure. “Why is it so hot? It’s Winter!” she complained as she rushed to the windows, opening them to get some air. When she did, the wind blew in, blowing her hair and robe back. 

Good thing the window was facing the gardens; otherwise, everyone would have seen the future Queen’s nudity. Faryan pulled Elisif back from the window, feeling hot herself, her face flushed. “Come, my lady. Have some more wine. It will make it better,” she said, drawing the curtains closed.

“Stop! I need air… it’s so hot!” Elisif drew the curtains open once more, letting the breeze in, sighing in relief at the cold air. 

“I must agree, my lady,” Faryan said. “Here, drink this.”

The future Queen chugged the rest of her wine, very unladylike, and untied her robe all the way, exposing a naked body underneath as she fanned herself with two hands. Her nipples hard from the cool breeze. 

Faryan finished her wine, staring her lady in her nakedness, eyes narrowing, dilating in lust. She, too, was hot, but the cold air helped. As she looked down at Elisif’s breasts, she reached out and grazed a thumb across her nipple. “You know if it worries you, I can help you... show you how he should please you,” she said, licking her lips. “Then you can teach him all that you desire.”

Elisif took a shuddered breath at the touch, her eyes focused on Faryan’s, but turned to face the outside once more. Her arms spread on either side of the window to capture the freezing wind. Her arms tingled with touch as fingers pulled down her robe, sliding off her body. It dropped and pooled around her bare feet. The young woman was naked now. Gentle kisses were planted on her shoulder, and arms reached up beneath hers, wrapping around, fingers pinching her nipples. She moaned to the touch, enjoying the night air blowing against her skin, the hard pinches on her breasts. Her head fell back into her servant’s shoulder.

“Let me show you,” Faryan whispered in Elisif’s ear. 

“Yes, please.”

Faryan slipped around Elisif, facing her. “First, he should kiss you. Have you ever been kissed?”

The young woman shook her head, biting her bottom lip.

The Altmer was taller and had to bend down to reach the woman’s lips. Elisif instinctively closed her eyes when she felt lips upon hers. She had never even been kissed, much to her embarrassment. They groomed the young woman to be the wife of the High King since her birth. Every minor aspect of her life was tightly controlled and managed. The tongue slipped in, but instead of focusing on the oddness of it, her own tongue reached out in Faryan’s mouth, following her lead. Her already fevered body built again, face flushing.

“Then his lips should trail down your face, your throat, your shoulder… your breast,” the Altmer said as she planted kisses on Elisif. She bent down, trailing a tongue across a hard nipple. The elf could hear the woman’s breathing hitch and a moan escape her lips. “Then the other…”

“Mara have mercy,” Elisif groaned. Never had her breasts been touched in such a way, if at all. “I… I like that. Torygg is… supposed to do… that?”

“Yes, my lady.”

Faryan rose, her mouth pressed to Elisif’s ear. “Use your fingers to touch yourself between your legs. Feel how wet your pussy is,” she whispered.

The embarrassed flush spread through the young woman’s body, but she did as she was told. Her hand came away with moisture, touching it between fingers. 

Faryan watched her lady inspect the wetness on her fingers. “That is what happens when you have pleasure. It readies your body for your lord’s cock.” 

“Will it hurt?”

“Perhaps. It depends on how gentle he is and how large. You will use what you learn tonight to ensure he enters you with ease and that he makes you wet enough.”

“Show me everything,” Elisif demanded, sounding more sure of herself.

Faryan didn’t question the turn of events. She never cared much for the young woman, but she couldn’t control her lust and desire for her. All she could think about is licking her, wanting her. Elisif seemed to desire the same. She dropped to her knees, face in front of the young woman’s blonde mound, spreading her folds. As soon as her tongue swirled around the clit, Elisif cried out.

“Oh, gods! Why… why does that feel so good?”

“I have barely started, my lady. There is more.”

The future Queen braced herself in front of the window, spreading her legs. Her heart pounded through her chest, looking down to see her Lady in Waiting, licking her down there. It was the most lustful thing she had ever seen or been through. She had to have more. Elisif lifted her leg and placed a foot on the windowsill so Faryan could better access to her wet core. Gentle fingers pried her apart and slipped inside, thrusting in and out as the woman suckled a spot of nerves that had her entire body shuddering. The orgasm tore through her seemingly out of nowhere. She stifled a scream so others couldn’t hear as her body wracked with spasms. Never in her life had she experienced something so good. If that was to be expected from her husband, she would bed him every night.

As she came down from her orgasmic high, Faryan rose and kissed her once more. “Now, you can show me what you’ve learned. Were you paying attention?”

Elisif was still out of breath, wobbly in the knees as she walked to her bed to sit. “I think so. Mara’s mercy… that was…”

“It is wonderful, no?”

“Yes.”

Faryan stood in front of her lady, removed her clothing, and sat down on the bed, pulling Elisif’s face into a kiss. “On your knees, my lady.”

Elisif did as she was told and got on her knees, facing her Lady in Waiting. The woman spread her legs, exposing her wet cunt. Her arms slipped under the thighs, and placed her face between her legs, inhaling her. Her scent built up the heat in her once more. It was heady, and all she could think about was tasting her. She tried to find the same place Fayran licked, but she needed help as the elf guided her on where to go and lick. The Altmer purred and cooed, rewarding Elisif with wonderful sounds when she got it right. The bundle of nerves popped out in her mouth, and she sensed the woman’s heat against the skin of her face as she exploded in her mouth. The young woman lapped up the elf’s juices with eager pleasure.

Faryan fell back in the bed and yawned. “That was wonderful, my lady. You learn quickly.”

Elisif climbed on top of her Lady in Waiting, straddling her, and bent down to kiss her. She trailed her lips down to the elf’s breast, nibbling on her nipples. “That was quite the learning experience, Faryan. Thank you, but I presume my King does not have a pussy, as you put it.”

The elf laughed. “Indeed. He has a cock. If you show him what you want, I am sure he will show you what he wants. Do not fret. You will learn well enough.”

Elisif fell onto her side, next to the Altmer, and trailed a finger around the areola of her breast. “I want to do this some more, Faryan.”

She looked over and cocked an eyebrow at the young woman. “Now?”

The young woman smiled, closed her eyes, and yawned. “No, not now. I’m too sleepy. Tomorrow.”

The two women dragged themselves to the top of the bed and climbed under the covers holding each other as they fell asleep.

Sanguine knew the two women would wake the next morning, blushing and confused at their nudity and covered with the scent of sex, holding each other close. There wouldn’t be any direct memories, only flashes of what happened as a dream might—small enough to make them question themselves, but waking up in each other’s arms would indicate an absolute truth. But their desires would take hold, and both would continue to explore each other for the next year unbeknownst to the King, though he was rewarded in turn with Elisif’s growing experience. Their relationship will have Faryan no longer spying on the monarchy, loving her lady with everything she had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments are always welcome and appreciated.


	19. Belrand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The mercenary out of Solitude, Belrand did not expect the beautiful woman to walk into the Winking Skeever that night. Nor did he expect to walk in on her as he went to use the privy. Little did he know what she had in mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't expecting a little story like this so soon, but here we are. So, try not to envision Belrand as the egg that he is. I recreated his NPC for the game and I had to do a little story for him (image below). This is for you, "I'm no longer an egg" Belrand.
> 
> Belrand/Original Female Character.

Sitting in his usual corner of the Winking Skeever close to the hearth, Belrand sipped on his ale. He had been drinking too much lately. Mercenary jobs had been scarce in recent months and he was growing bored. The tavern was crowded with the usual patrons. Different day; same faces. For a while, he had too many offers for jobs, now he could barely get even one. It was a good thing he saved his gold. 

To make matters worse, there weren’t many single ladies in Solitude. Most were married or betrothed. Belrand wouldn’t mind some companionship and jacking off only provided so much relief. It wasn’t enough. A few single ladies traveled through and he was good looking enough to get their attention. They liked his green eyes and blonde hair; at least that was what they told him. But even the women had been scarce as well. He could hire a wench for an evening of fun, but he was afraid to spend all his coin. If no jobs became available, he was going to struggle. At least the ale was cheap.

The wind and snow blew in when someone entered the tavern. He was tucked in a corner and couldn’t see who it was, but he could hear people yelling for the person to shut the door. Winter was in full force. 

He raised his hand to order another drink from Sorex, the owner’s son when he saw her. His heart stopped. Finally, someone new. She wasn’t just an unfamiliar face but had a gorgeous one. He couldn’t see the rest of her as she was covered in furs, but he imagined she looked just as fantastic underneath all the layers. The woman sat down at a table across the tavern with a goblet in hand. As soon as she looked up, their eyes met. Belrand was caught staring and he didn’t care. He couldn’t take his eyes off of her as he ran a hand through his shoulder-length hair.

The woman stood up and removed her layers piece by piece in agonizing slowness as if putting on a show just for him. Yes, she was just as beautiful underneath. Her dress was well-made. Disappointment crossed his mind. She was probably noble. Noblewomen had no interest in a mercenary. Belrand sipped on his new ale and drew his eyes away from her. There was no point in focusing on her despite her beauty. It would be a waste of time to try anything with her.

Curiosity eventually got the better of him after two ales later and he looked over at her table to find her gone. She probably headed to bed. It was just as well. The mercenary wasn’t in the mood for rejection anyway.

Belrand ambled over to Corpulus, the innkeeper to pay his tab and headed to bed. It was late. First, he had to piss, walking to the privy. As soon as he opened the door, shock coursed through his body. At the same time, an erection formed in his breeches at the scene before him. The mercenary stood there stupidly with the door open staring at the very woman he had his eyes on earlier. He thought she left. When had she come in there? 

She was leaning against the wall and her head was thrown back. Her skirts were lifted and held by her arm, exposing her pussy, which she was rubbing with fingers. Her eyes were hooded in lust, mouth parted open, looking at him as if she was doing nothing more than reading a book. It was as if she was waiting for him at that moment. 

The woman didn’t scream for him to get out. Nor did she welcome him. She only stared as if she wasn’t focused on him at all while she continued to play with herself. He felt like her show was just for him. There was no fear or embarrassment on her face. No, this was intentional or she simply didn’t care who saw her. It could have been anyone who walked in on her, but it was him.

Instead of leaving her to her pleasures, he walked in and closed the door behind him, leaning against it as he watched her fingers thrust themselves in and out of her cunt. Now that the door was shut, he could hear her breathing, panting. As soon as a moan escaped her lips, he had to get closer. 

Her eyes may have looked unfocused, but she watched him, following his movements as he approached her. She lifted her skirts higher as if in invitation for him to watch or touch. He didn’t know. His cock twitched and swelled painfully in his pants as he dropped to his knees in front of her, face to face with her pussy. The woman didn’t waver or stop what she was doing, so Belrand took it as a sign she wanted him there, at least accepted him. 

He looked up to see her watching him, wondering what he was going to do. All he knew was he wanted to watch her. He removed her hand from her skirts and held them up for her, giving her a free hand to do what she wanted. His heart pounded and his breathing picked up as her hands spread her folds. He inhaled her heady smell, watching fingers thrust with one hand and her clit being rubbed with the other. She was wet and it was glistening along her pussy, dripping down her thighs. Her fingers used it as lubrication as she rubbed and massaged. 

Belrand nearly reached out to touch her, lick her, but he held back. He let her do the work so he could watch. There was something about watching a woman get herself off—to see first hand how a woman liked it. But he took a finger and trailed it along her thigh, touching the wetness dripping down, and brought his fingers to his mouth to lick it off. 

The woman groaned when he did this and he looked up. She was close. Her breathing picked up and she nibbled on her bottom swollen lip. Then it happened. Her moan echoed in the small room, coming on her fingers. He could see her pussy pulse in its pleasure as she rubbed and kneaded the small area of her clit. As she came down, her body sagged against the wall, and with a hand reaching out to him, she shoved two wet fingers into his mouth, which he sucked with eagerness.

“Let me see it,” she said. Her voice was hoarse from her orgasm.

Belrand assumed she meant only one thing. With eager anticipation, he undid his belt, untied the lacing on his breeches, and pulled them down to reveal his swollen cock. If she could do it, so could he. At least he wasn’t bored anymore.

She smirked down between his legs and brushed a thumb along his wet tip. It twitched at the sensation, wanting more than a simple touch. Her mouth would do quite nicely. But she didn’t get on her knees or offer herself. “Do it,” was all she said.

Normally, the idea of jacking off again wouldn’t appeal to him, but there was something about doing it in front of a woman who just rubbed her pussy in front of him. She was still leaning against the wall, her skirts lifted to give him a visual as he pumped himself. He braced his back on the other side against the wall as he began to stroke. 

The woman rubbed herself again, but this time he assumed it was for his visual enjoyment as he stroked himself rather than for her. His expert hand moved up and down his cock, twitching and pulsing, eager for release. It wouldn’t take much after what he witnessed earlier, feeling the heat and pressure build between his legs. He wasn’t going to waste his time drawing it out. The mercenary wanted to come hard and fast. His hand moved faster as his breathing picked up. Groans escaped his lips and he struggled not to close his eyes, wanting to watch her touch her cunt, imagining he was fucking it. He envisioned turning her around, bending her over, lifting her skirts, and fucking her from behind. Her cunt would be slick with her juices as he slid in and out of her with ease, but she would be tight around him. 

Belrand’s eyes did shut as he got closer, unable to keep them open. His orgasm tore through him as his hand moved faster, but as he came he looked down to find the woman on her knees, shoving his hands away as she swallowed his cock drinking down all he spilled in her mouth. His fingers tangled in her dark hair as she finished him off, thrusting in her mouth a bit too hard, but she didn’t stop until he was done.

When he had nothing left to give her, she stood up, wiping some come off her lips, smiling. With his breeches still pooled around his ankles, his cock now flaccid, she leaned into him and whispered. “I’m in room four if you want more.”

Yes, he wanted more. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments are always welcome and appreciated <3


	20. A Night to Remember

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Acadia had always been shy, but she developed a crush for Farengar and had to find a way to overcome her fears. She spent a year concocting a special treat and since it was a holiday, what perfect time to give it to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Halloween! Here is a little story in celebration of hiding yourself behind a mask :)
> 
> Thank you to [solstice_sweetheart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/solstice_sweetheart/pseuds/solstice_sweetheart) for the pairing and prompt!

It was a holiday Arcadia had been preparing for all year, but not in the way one would think. While she had her witch’s costume on and her mask, it was the little ball of chocolates that had her perfecting. It had been over a year since she pined over Farengar, never having the nerve to tell him how she felt about him. Whenever he came to her shop buying alchemical ingredients he needed for potions or helped him create something new, she thought he flirted with her, but each time she brushed it off as her imagination. She was just an alchemist while he was the Court Wizard to the Jarl himself. It didn’t help that she was shy by nature. What would someone like him see in someone like her? But she had to try.

But tonight was the night for celebration. Jarl Balgruuf always held festivities at Dragonsreach, inviting the entire town of Whiterun to celebrate the holiday. She arrived alone and hopefully saw Farengar there. Hidden away behind a mask, she hoped she would now have the guts to tell him how she felt. Then they would share her special chocolates. That was the plan, anyway.

The little sack of chocolates felt heavy in her hands. Her pace slowed down as she entered the massive longhouse, feeling suddenly nervous. No, not suddenly—worse. The music and voices were loud, echoing through the mead hall and the air filled with wood burning from the hearth that centered the keep. Arcadia stopped at a table covered in goblets filled with wine. She took two and downed them both, not bothering to savor the flavor. The lack of burning as it went down indicated quality. All she cared about was calming her nerves.

When she reached the wizard’s place of study, she laughed under her breath. She should have known he would be working instead of joining in the festivities. Farengar was pouring over an old tome in deep concentration despite the noise as he read and took notes. She hated to interrupt him, but if she didn’t, she never would. With a shaking hand, she rapped on the wood of the wall and gave a little cough to get his attention.

“Yes? What is it? Can’t you see I’m busy?” he asked, not looking up from his book.

“I can see that. Yes. But it’s a holiday, and I thought you might like a little treat,” she said, swallowing the butterflies that made their way down to her stomach. 

The wizard looked up, brushing his medium length hair out of his face. She loved his strange beard on his face but shaved in the middle. It made her giggle thinking about it and imaging it tickling her thighs when he… Arcadia coughed again to get such thoughts out of her head. She was nervous as it was.

“Arcadia? Is that you, lass? I would recognize that lovely voice of yours anywhere,” he said. His eyes twinkled, but he didn’t smile. Another mixed signal that she brushed off.

“It is. Aren’t you going to celebrate?”

“Bah, hanging around a bunch of drunken fools doesn’t sound fun to me, but why don’t you come in and sit down. I do like your mask though.”

Acadia walked in, her nerves not settling despite his welcome and break from his studies. “Thanks… I uh, made it myself.”

“It looks fetching on you.”

It was a good thing she was wearing a mask as the blush crept up her face, the heat making her sweat under it. “Thanks,” she muttered again.

“Is that it?”

“What is what?”

“The treat?”

“Oh! Yes,” she said but pulled them back towards her when he reached to grab the small bag. “They are, uhm…” How did she explain it? How did she tell him what she wanted and what they were? Ugh, this was a mistake. She shouldn’t have come. Acadia stood, flustered a bit, then walked out of his study, mumbling something resembling an apology.

Farengar must have run to her to reach her before she left and grabbed her arm. “Wait. You just got here.”

“I… I…” she stammered. Her embarrassment and frustration brought tears to her eyes, grateful once more he couldn’t see her face. This was a disaster. She was humiliated, but it was of her own doing. 

“Arcadia. Is there something you wish to tell me?” he asked, his voice gentle as he ran a hand up and down her arm, trying to comfort her, but all it did was stir something deep inside her and between her legs.

“I feel like a fool,” she finally uttered.

“Why would you feel such a thing? Come and sit down,” he said, leading her to a chair by his desk. Once she settled down or at least calmed a bit, he took one of her hands in his. “Now, I know you came to see me and bring me something. Can you please tell me why you are so upset right now?”

His thumb running against her knuckles was claiming. Then she felt the warmth spread through her—a calming spell. Arcadia breathed out as if blowing the remaining fears out of her. “I’m sorry. I… I… in truth, I like you, Farengar—”

“I like you too—”

“No, I mean… more than the sharing of ideas and talks of potions. I…”

“I know what you meant, Arcadia.”

“Oh… wait. You like me too?” Could it be true? Is that what he meant?

“Yes. Honestly, you were always so quiet or shy I couldn’t tell, so I said nothing, thinking you didn’t care for me other than being a colleague.”

“Colleague? No, more than a colleague,” she smiled shyly.

“Now that we got that out of the way,” he said, lifting the mask off her face. “Care to tell me what sort of delectable treat you made for me?”

Arcadia met his eyes, blushing, but a smile was on her face. She opened the bag and pulled out a round chocolate ball. “I have spent nearly a year perfecting these. I think they are just right now.”

“Oh, chocolate? I love chocolate,” he said, reaching for one, but she pulled back again.

“These aren’t any chocolates. It is my special concoction of…” she smiled and blushed, looking down at her lap. “It’s an aphrodisiac.”

“Oh, really?” he asked. While there was a surprise in his voice, there was also a hint of humor in it. 

Arcadia looked up to see his reaction, seeing his hand held out for one. She dropped the round morsel in his hand and he put it in his mouth. “Delicious. I’m not the only one going to eat one, am I?”

She shook her head and took a bite of one. Farengar took the remaining bite from her hand and put it in her mouth. “You say you took a year to perfect. Did you… test this out on someone?”

“Oh, they are for you, so I only tested on… me.”

Farengar leaned back in his chair, still chewing, a stupid grin on his face. “On yourself? I… can imagine how that must have… looked.”

Arcadia giggled and looked up at him, feeling more comfortable. “It was quite the journey.”

“Did you test them when I was around?” he asked, leaning in towards her, inhaling her throat. “You smell good… really good.”

“A… a few times,” she admitted. 

“Were those the times I caught you flushing so beautifully, telling me it was hot in your shop when it wasn’t?”

“Yes,” she whispered. 

“And what did you do when I left?” he asked, whispering in her ear. His breath sent shivers down her arm, tickling her, but she felt the heat creep up her face. It wasn’t just from embarrassment but from the chocolates. It was one of the side effects.

A hand rushed up to her mouth to cover up her smile. “I…”

“Don’t tell me. Show me.”

“In here? There’s a party. Someone might walk in.” Arcadia looked around, wide-eyed, thinking someone would walk in right at that moment.

Farengar stood and pulled her up to stand, then grabbed her hand, yanking her out of his office, and led her to his room. It was small, but it was enough. As soon as he shut the door behind them, he reached for her face, plunging his lips against hers. “I can’t tell you how long I have wanted you,” he said between kisses down her throat.

“Really?” she asked as she untied his mage robes. 

“Yes… yes. You’re so beautiful. I want to kiss and lick every inch of your skin.”

When Arcadia yanked off his robes, her smile was no longer shy, but devious. He was naked underneath and his cock erect, bigger than she ever fantasized. “Do you always walk naked under those robes?”

“Ever since I met you,” he said, slipping off her dress, tongue swirling on a nipple. “Every time I left your shop, I had to masturbate. Gods, you smell good.”

“You do too,” she said, already out of breath as they scrambled to touch flesh on their hands and mouths. “I would touch myself with thoughts of you when I tested out my chocolates.”

“They are fine chocolates, indeed.”

Once they were fully naked, Farengar put Arcadia on his bed, bending her over, ass facing him. “Oh, what a lovely sight. Your ass is gorgeous and that pussy... I dreamed about licking your tight hole, your cunt dripping at my touch.”

She could feel the wetness dripping down on one of her thighs with his words, waiting so long to be with him. Before it was only fantasy, now it was a reality. Arcadia giggled, feeling his beard tickling her thighs as she imagined it would as he ran a tongue along her leg, licking up her wetness. 

“Delicious,” he groaned. “Just sit there so I can lick you as I have in my dreams.”

His tongue was better than any fantasy as it probed in her ass then ran through the folds of her cunt. She pressed her body lower so her ass rose higher to give Farengar more access. When she moaned, he dug in harder.

“Gods, I love your smell… your taste,” he said between licks. “I love your chocolate, but you taste even better.”

Farengar stopped licking and put Acadia on her back and resumed his licking, this time on her clit. “Tell me,” he said. “Tell me what you fantasize about when you test your chocolates.”

Now that the aphrodisiac was in full swing, she had no inhibitions or fears. No lingering shyness. So she told him as he licked her. “I not only dream about what you are doing to me as you are now, but I have fantasies of you sticking your cock in my ass. I want to feel you stretch me as you pound my tight hole. Sometimes, I dream you bind me with magic and I cannot move as you have your way with me.”

Farengar stopped what he was doing and looked up at her, lust in his eyes. “Is that what you want? I can do it if that is truly what you want.”

Arcadia nodded, a smile on her face.

“Beg me.”

“Bind me and do what you want to me, Farengar. Please. I will do anything.”

“As my beautiful alchemist wishes,” he said, biting a nipple.

Farengar cast a paralysis spell on her and she could not move at all, no matter how hard she tried. He adjusted her body back to the position she was in earlier. She could hear him rummaging around, slamming a drawer when he found what he wanted. Though she couldn’t move, she could feel everything. And with her aphrodisiac, her skin was hyper-sensitive. 

She felt some liquid pour down her ass then fingers probing inside, one, then two, then three. He massaged her ass as he licked and bit the plump flesh. “I can’t wait to get my cock inside you,” he moaned, digging, caressing, stretching.

“Get it in me, then.”

“Not yet,” he said. As his fingers moved in and out of her ass, she could hear the sounds of electricity and the smell of ozone as if a storm started in his room—a storm, but not the rain kind. It was a storm of lust, desire, and need. 

The first touch stiffened her body at first, but it wasn’t painful. Her sensitive skin just reacted to the unfamiliar sensation. Farengar moved his finger around her clit as he continued to play with her ass. The electric feeling across her clit was intense and had her groaning so loud, she was grateful for all the noise from the party outside. The throbbing in her pussy was building, knowing she was about to come, and she did in an explosion as she screamed into his bed. He kept it up until she begged for no more. It was the most intense orgasm she ever had between his probing fingers and his magic on her clit. 

Arcadia wanted to melt into his bed, her mind a fog of sexual desire, but he wasn’t done with her. “I’m going to fuck your ass now, lass. This is what you want, right?”

“Fuck me,” she moaned, not recognizing her own voice it was so hoarse. It was so unlike her and she loved it.

Farengar spread her ass cheeks and slowly worked his cock in and out. He used small doses of healing as he pushed in deeper so she suffered no pain. All she felt was a fullness in her ass as he stretched her. His cock was bigger than she ever hoped and she loved the thrusting in and out of her, unable to move as he took her. 

“Faster, harder,” she said. He was being too gentle. 

“As you wish.” 

Fingers clawed at her hips as he grabbed her. Not only did he thrust, but he pulled her back to him as he pounded away. Flesh against flesh and panting breaths were all that could be heard over the din outside his room as the party and music raged on. He was raging on her ass in tune with the music as the drumbeat. Farengar yelled out as he came, body thrusting in sputters as he spilled into her ass. 

His body fell on hers, feeling his hot breath on her back. “You have a perfect ass, my dear. That was… I’m… huh. I’m still hard.”

Arcadia giggled. “Yes, it’s going to take a while for the aphrodisiac to wear off. I wanted it to last longer than one fuck.”

“Did you now?” he asked, kissing along her back. “I will be more than happy to give you all your desire as long as you wish, my dear Acadia… with or without chocolates.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments are always welcome and appreciated.


	21. The Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Imperial soldiers take a break from work to play some innocent cards. One thing led to another and soon they were in a pile of naked flesh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are no major characters.
> 
> Four men/two women

The early afternoon was unseasonably warm as the Imperial soldiers drank their mead and played a game of cards to pass the time in the large tent where they ate their meals. Their commander gave them the entire day off from duty to relax. “We can’t be soldiering all day, every day,” he said. So they gathered around an old wooden table that rocked from uneven legs, careful not to spill their drinks.

“I win! It’s about fucking time,” Cassie yelled out, slamming her hand of cards on the table, jostling the bottles. Everyone scrambled to catch their drinks before they spilled. “Hmmm, let’s see… Quint! You… off with it.”

“Why am I always chosen to remove something first?” Quint pouted, pulling off his tunic since he had the worst hand of the group. The only thing he had left on were his breeches, boots, and smalls. If he lost anymore, he would be the first one naked.

“Because we have all been dying to see what’s under that uniform of yours,” Livia said. “So far, it’s better than I expected.” She winked and leaned over to look between his legs, a mischievous grin on her face.

“Alright… the rest of you. Remove something,” Cassie ordered. She had lost every hand up until that moment, finally getting the feel of the game. Her full armor was gone and she was left with a tunic, smalls, breast band, and leather gloves. 

Jonus reached over and tried to grope Cassie’s thigh before she smacked it away. “That’s not part of the rules, Jonus! Hands off, asshole!”

“Hey, you can’t blame me for trying.”

“I can, and I will,” she huffed, but she had a smile on her face.

After three more rounds of cards, Cassie was now down to smalls only. Quint was already naked, not having won one hand of cards. His arms were crossed in irritation as the two women ogled his cock. “I get a chance to win some clothes back, yes?” he asked.

“That’s not how this works,” Silus said. He and the other soldier, Caius, were the most dressed while still wearing tunics and breeches. 

Livia seemed the most comfortable in her skin. She was the first to remove her breast band and tunic despite the chance to remove breeches and boots first. Since Cassie wouldn’t let him touch her, Jonus reached for Livia’s nipple, giving it a little tweak, testing the waters. Livia giggled but brushed his hand away.

By the end of the game, everyone was naked but Silius. The man was practically a pro at cards, reading everyone’s tells, despite having some of the worst hands in the game. 

“Well, it’s a beautiful evening and I’m not going to waste this gorgeous naked skin getting dressed. I’m going swimming in the pond. Who wants to join me?” Livia asked.   


All but Silius didn’t have to be asked twice as they stood to head to the pond. They were all about to dive into the water, but Silius refused to get in and stayed dressed, arms crossed, though he followed them to the water. “The water is cold,” he said as an excuse.

“Oh no. After all that and everyone losing their clothes, you have to get naked and get in, Silius,” Livia said. “Come on, Cassie. Let’s get the gruff man undressed.”

“Wait…” he said, hands raised. “I can very well get myself undressed, thank you.”

“Too bad,” Cassie said as she and Livia, wrestled the man, yanking off boots, breeches, tunic, and smalls. The man could have fought harder, but there was something fun about having two lovely ladies strip him down.

Cassie screamed and kicked as Silius lifted her and threw her into the frigid waters. Then he chased Livia and did the same with her once he caught her. Despite his broody demeanor, the man knew how to have fun even though not once showing a smile on his face.

As soon as Quint entered the water, Livia jumped on his back, wrapping legs around him. Cassie took her cue and jumped on the back of Jonus. Before they knew it, the two women straddled the men’s necks and wrestled with each other to see who fell into the water first. 

Livia and Cassie were cold and climbed out to lay in the warm light of the day to dry off and the men followed suit, but Jonus stayed in. “I uh, will be out in a minute,” he said.

Cassie sat up from lying down to laugh at him. “Oh, please. We all know you have an erection,” she laughed along with Livia. “I’m sure my pussy wrapped around your neck did it.”

Instead of taking offense, he laughed and splashed the two laughing women, who squealed. “You got me. I’m hard as a rock.”

“Come on, then! Let’s see it!” Livia said.

Jonus was still laughing, but his face turned beet red. That didn’t stop him from getting out of the water, holding his hard cock in his hand. “Fine… Happy now?”

The girls stopped laughing as their eyes grew wide while the rest of the men groaned. Despite his lecherous ways, he was large. 

“Very…” Livia said.

“Uh-huh,” Cassie muttered.

Jonus walked over to the girls ogling his crotch and forced them to separate as he dropped down on his back between them in the grass. His smile was smug as he looked back and forth at each woman. “You want to touch it, don’t you.”

Cassie huffed that she didn’t, leaving to sit next to Quint, but her eyes never left Jonus’ cock. Livia, on the other hand, just nodded stupidly, reaching for it. Jonus grabbed her hand before she touched it, teasing, then let her go. She ran her hand up and down his shaft, feeling the soft yet hard flesh. 

“Oh, that’s nice,” she said, then looked back at Cassie who was watching the whole thing. Looking around, all the men were staring too and all were hard at the scene before them. “Cassie… look.”

Cassie followed Livia’s eyes to see all the men now had erections, trying to cover it up when they got caught, even Silius was caught up in the moment, though he turned away. He was the first one Cassie was going to touch. The broody, stiff one was going to relax if it killed her. She crawled over on hands and knees, turning him around to look at her. His face was a scowl of embarrassment, she was undeterred, reaching for him. Cassie thought he would stop her, but he let her touch him as she stroked.

When she bent her head down between his legs, his heart stopped with her breath so close to his cock. On hands and knees, she grasped him and ran her tongue along his shaft. The man moaned in pleasure despite the discomfort on his face. He looked to be a man embattled with fleeing or accepting.

Everyone grew quiet, the laughter died down watching Cassie suck on the grumpy Silius who was like butter in her hands, or more like mouth. She felt someone lift her ass a little higher, then probing fingers explored her cunt. It was tentative at first, but whoever it was, grew bolder, as they thrust fingers in and out. She stopped and turned to see Quint, his face hard as if in deep concentration. She raised her ass high in invitation as she resumed her licking and sucking.

Livia wasted no time straddling Jonus with her back to him and slipped him inside her, then waved over the lonely Caius who was bereft of touch from someone. With eager anticipation, he scrambled over to her while Jonus bounced her up and down on him. 

“Let me suck you,” she said.

Caius hovered over Jonus’ legs and held his cock out to Livia, thrusting in her mouth. He tangled fingers in her hair, moving her head back and forth as Jonus pounded in her, fingers clawing at her flesh. 

“Psst, Cassie… over here. Sit on Jonus’s face. I’m sure his tongue is as good as his cock,” Livia said after pulling Caius out of her mouth, stroking him.

She nodded, especially since Silius was getting close to exploding, not wanting it to be over. Cassie crawled over to Jonus and straddled his face, spreading her folds as his tongue reached up to her. She leaned her back against Livia, as his tongue probed her cunt and flicked around her clit. When she looked over with hooded eyes, they grew wide when she saw Quint take her place at Silius’ cock and Silius actually liked it.

“Look, Livia,” she whispered.

“Quint, I had no idea you liked cock,” Livia said.

“I like it all,” he replied with his mouth full.

“Who knew!” she giggled. “Do you like being fucked too?”

“Sometimes.”

“Quint, come over here and suck my tits while Jonus sucks my pussy. I want to see it. I want to see you get fucked, Quint. Gods, that visual is so hot!” Cassie said. 

Quint crawled over and sucked on Cassie’s tits, but Silius sat, cock hard as a rock watching the scene before him. He seemed in debate if he wanted to fuck Silius then shrugged. His fingers probed the man before him to ready his ass as he sucked tits. Cassie’s eyes were directly on his, full of lust, emboldening him to penetrate Quint as she mouthed the words ‘do it.’ Silius slowly penetrated Quint, the man moaning beneath him as Cassie joined in watching the scene unfold. “So fucking hot,” she groaned.

Silius bent over Quint as he pounded in his ass, his face reaching for Cassie’s and kissed her. Livia also wanted to get fucked in the ass as she pulled out of Jonus and sucked him while Caius stretched her ass with his cock. “Fuck yeah,” he said. Caius was the only one who could see the whole scene unfurl. His cock penetrated Livia’s ass as she was bent over sucking Jonus who was sucking Cassie’s pussy while Quint sucked on her tits. Then watching Quint get fucked by Silius. 

The first one to come was Cassie as she screamed out, exploding on Jonus’ face. The orgasmic screams that tore through the valley had Silius exploding in Quint’s ass. His moans spurred Caius to explode in Livias’ ass. Soon after Jonus was next as she spilled in Livia’s mouth. There were so many groans and moans, it was hard to tell who was coming. 

The only two who didn’t get to come were Quint and Livia. Cassie remedied that by pushing Livia on her back, spread her legs, and used her tongue, swirling around her clit. Quint took the opportunity of Cassie’s exposed pussy to penetrate her while the rest of the three men watched, some already turning hard again. Cassie spread her folds and dug in, feeling Livia getting ready to come as Quint pounded into her, flesh smacking against flesh. His groans filled the air as Livia screamed out in pleasure, coming in Cassie’s mouth. Quint pulled out and came all over Cassie’s back. 

All six of them lay on the warm ground, bodies sprawled out on each other, and all ready for a nap. Cassie kissed Silius on the lips and told him how hot he was fucking Quint and that she wanted him soon. Just him and her. For the first time that evening, Silius smiled and held her, always having a crush on the woman, but never daring to do anything about it.

As the group started to drift away with sleepiness in a tangled mass of flesh, they were startled awake by their commander. 

“What is going on here?! I said, relax, not fuck each other senseless!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments always appreciated and welcome! <3


	22. The Break-In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mariel, a thief, Bosmer, and Dragonborn is forced to retrieve one of the Barenziah stones from Jorvaskr. She is reluctant because she left the Companions and Vilkas with little word as to why. Now she is face to face with her past. Vilkas while angry, still loves and tries to show it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a request from a reader, Chris, who wanted to see Vilkas with a Dragonborn Thief.
> 
> Two chapters tonight. This one and Chapter 23

The Bosmer hid in one of the few trees in Whiterun waiting for it to be clear of people as it grew late in the evening. Jorvaskr was going to be trouble enough without having to worry about guards or witnesses. It had been a year since Mariel last set foot inside the mead hall. She prayed that Vilkas was out of town on a job so she wouldn’t stumble into him. It wasn’t that she was afraid of him or hated him. Quite the contrary. Their relationship was passionate and as intense as they both were. 

Just when things were turning serious between them, Mariel left. No, she fled. There were too many confusing feelings for Vilkas and she didn’t know how to handle it. After reflecting on it for too long, she realized she was falling in love. So she left before she became a full-fledged Companion. As Dragonborn, she joined thinking it would provide the best training to deal with the dragon menace, but in the end, the relationship with Vilkas was too distracting. 

The Thieves Guild, while not in the least honorable compared to the Companions, gave her an edge with all the stealth training they provided. That and the money was much better. She needed it to survive as the Dragonborn. Brynjolf was another complication, but she managed to keep his advances at bay. Deep down, she wasn’t able to let Vilkas go. So there she was, scoping out the area to steal from the very people who tried to give her a home a year ago. It left a bitter taste in her mouth, but she had to get the stone, already finding twenty of them. Four more and she would be done. 

Mariel remembered seeing the Barenziah stone in Kodlak’s private quarters once and she had been putting this off until she couldn’t any longer. Kodlak, while still spry, was old. She hoped he wouldn’t hear her enter his room as he slept. _In and out_ , she told herself. _Don’t waste time thinking about Vilkas. Just get the stone and leave_. 

She climbed down the tree more silent than the light breeze traveling through town. Instead of lockpicking the complicated door, Mariel turned ethereal, a shout she learned a while back during her travels. It allowed her to slip right through the door as if she weren’t made of solid matter. It wouldn’t be so simple down in the living quarters. She would have to use her invisibility potions.

It was late and she was sure everyone would be asleep. They were early risers to train, so sleep was needed. As quiet as a whisper, she entered the living quarters downstairs and walked to the end of the hall where Kodlak’s room was. The door was ajar, so she pushed it open, wincing in hopes that it didn’t squeak on its hinges. When it remained quiet, she breathed out in relief. 

Mariel scanned the room with her keen eyes and spotted the gem sitting exactly where it was the last time she saw it, untouched. 

Vilkas stirred in his sleep, restless. His beast eyes opened, quickly adjusting to the minimal light. It was the smell that woke him as he sniffed the air. It was an all too familiar scent and one he struggled to forget. _Mariel_. He looked around, thinking she finally returned to him, realizing they were meant to be together, but she was nowhere to be seen. Now he was confused. Her scent was as clear as day, and he would know it anywhere. It smelled like a combination of freshly tilled soil, juniper, and grass. It must have been the Wood Elf in her. 

Then he saw it. The gem that had sat on Kodlak’s shelf forever. It was Vilkas’ room now since Kodlak was killed and he was the new Harbinger. The stone looked as if it was floating in the air. Someone was stealing it and that someone had to be Mariel. _Invisibility spell_. Vilkas leaped out of bed, uncaring that he was naked, and lunged at the invisible Bosmer. 

One moment Mariel was about to pocket the gem and the next, she found her body being slammed against the wall, a forearm to her throat. _How did he know?_ Once sense came to her, she saw Vilkas in front of her, face full of pain and anger. _What is he doing in Kodlak’s room?_

“Vil…” she tried to get out as he choked her. “Pl… plea…”

“So instead of coming back to me, you come here to steal? You steal from the very people who tried to be your family?” Vilkas spat.

Mariel coughed as he eased his arm to her throat and she became visible. _Fuck it’s good to see him_ , she thought as guilt coursed through her, trying to ignore his nudity. He always slept naked, she remembered. She still couldn’t figure out how he knew she was there, though looking back, Vilkas always had some strange intuition she could never figure out.

“Why?” he demanded. 

Mariel held out her hand to show him the stone. “I was hired to retrieve all the stones. I… I need the money.”

“Let me guess… you’re with the Thieves Guild?”

Her silence was confirmation enough. “Why, Mari? We gave you a home, we paid you, I… cared about you. So you just left to join the Thieves Guild for money? You left us… left me for that piece of shit organization?”

“I didn’t leave here for the Thieves Guild, Vil.”

Mariel could feel old feelings stir deep down inside her as the tears built up behind her eyes, struggling not to let them lose. No, she never got over Vilkas. That’s what happens when you love someone. It was hard to stop loving them no matter how hard one tried. 

Vilkas finally let her go and paced the room, his emotions stirring in him beyond his control. He was angry, hurt, feelings of love filled him, and he hated it, never expecting to see her again. “Then why did you? I think after being together like we were, you at least owe me that. You left with only a fucking note saying that you weren’t coming back and to not look for you. Do you know how fucking angry I was? How much I missed you?” He wanted to tell her to fuck off and just go, but he never wanted her to leave again either. It tore at him.

His rant left her speechless as the tears spilled. This was why she left as she did. She couldn’t face his hurt and anger. It was selfish how she handled it, but she was weak and knew it.

“I left because I’m a coward,” she finally mumbled out.

“You left because you’re a coward? I don’t understand.”

“Don’t do this, Vil. Don’t make me say it. Please,” she begged, looking at him imploringly. “Here just take it… I… I will figure something else out. I’ve gotta go.”

“No!” he yelled out and grabbed for her as she headed for the door. “Dammit! Part of me wants you to go, but my instinct is to hold you. Just… wait. Talk to me, Mari. At least give me some fucking closure. You owe me that much.”

Her mouth opened and closed, trying to form the words, but they stuck in the back of her throat. Her lip quivered as the tears continued to spill. Mariel looked away, unable to look at his pleading and hurt face, or his nakedness. His body was as fit and gorgeous as it ever was from all the years of training with a greatsword.

Instinct drove Vilkas as he lunged at her again. This time it wasn’t to stop her but to kiss her. The pain from her absence was too much as he grasped her face and plunged his lips to hers. Mariel sighed in his mouth and ran her hands up his arms and slipped around his neck. Her response had him groaning as he pulled her in tight against him. _Fuck he missed her_. Was he being a fool kissing her? Probably, but he didn’t care. If this was the last time with her, then so be it. If she couldn’t give him closure with words, perhaps she would with her body. Vilkas couldn’t let her go. He just had to kiss her. There was no stopping it now. 

Once he touched her, she was like melted wax in his hands. Already, his cock was hard against her, feeling it through the leather of her breeches. How she missed it—missed him.

Familiarity took hold, as well as the intensity of the moment, as Vilkas scrambled to undo buckles, tear off leather and slip off fabric. It took too long before she was finally naked. He gave one quick glance up and down her body before he lifted her, slamming her against the wall, and slid his cock into her. Yes, she missed him too with her wetness as he slipped in with little effort. 

Mariel clung to him with legs tightly wrapped around his waist as he pounded into her. His own strength kept her from falling as she was sandwiched between him and the wall. Hands grasped and fisted in hair as their mouths sought their tongues in desperation. She could hear her own heartbeat pounding in tandem with his thrusts. Vilkas growled in her neck, sending shivers along her skin as he came inside her. It was fast, heated, desperate. They had been apart far too long. She should never have left him. She was a fool.

Vilkas eased her down off the wall as they kissed, his seed and her juices slipping down her thighs. Mariel fisted his hair and dragged Vilkas down to his knees, then pulled his face to her cunt. No, she wanted to sit for this. As she pushed him away, she sat on the edge of the bed and spread her legs wide. He was still on his knees as he scrambled to her, thrusting his face between her legs as he dragged a tongue through her folds.

It was too hard for him to reach, so Vilkas shoved her on her back, spreading her, pushing back thighs. The sight of her exposed pussy left him hard again. He lapped at her wetness, tasting the sweetness of her mingled with the salt of him, so much like their personalities. His finger probed the tight hole of her ass as he swirled and flicked his tongue on her clit. There was no need to take their time. If tonight was like any other time they had been together, they would have more, much more as the evening wore on. Vilkas wanted her to come. He wanted to hear her cry out and explode in his mouth. And cry out she did as she gripped his hair. It was an amazing power he held over her. 

As she came down from her orgasmic high, she sat up and slid off the bed into Vilkas lap. Now that the heat died away, they were left with their raw emotions once more. It was something Mariel didn’t want to face, but Vilkas was right. She owed him that much. She wrapped her arms around his neck and legs around his waist as they held each other. Unable to face him, she buried her face in his throat. The warm tears spilled down again and she gave in to the truth. “I love you,” she whispered.

“Then why did you leave?”

Mariel sat up and faced him. “Come on, Vil. You know why. You know my story, but still… I’m a coward and couldn’t face it, so I ran and ran. I’m so sorry. I tried to move on, but I couldn’t. Then I came here and I hoped you weren’t home—that I would do the job and be gone without so much a thought about you. What an utter failure that was.”

“Do you regret it, then?” he asked.

“No.”

“I love you too,” he said, running his hands through her shaved hair then through the blonde strands that formed a ponytail falling out of its bindings. “What did you do to your hair?”

She laughed and hugged him tighter. “A, ah, a friend did it. She said it made me look tough. Do you hate it?”

Vilkas planted small kisses along her chin and neckline. “Nothing could make me hate anything about you except how you left.”

“Can you forgive me?”

“Only if you stay with me… and I mean for good. I’m not sure I can handle you leaving again after this.”

“I will stay.”

Vilkas grasped her face, giving her a deep and passionate kiss as a response.

They curled up in bed and talked for an hour about everything that happened in their lives the past year. Vilkas talked about losing Kodlak and becoming Harbinger. He told her the truth after all this time about what he and the inner circle of the Companions really were. She never knew, but he had to come clean. If they were to start over, she had to know everything. It scared her at first, but she knew what kind of man he was. She trusted him.

Mariel told him about how she stumbled onto the Thieves Guild, her hunt of dragons, and trying to earn gold to keep her fed while she did it. She explained she never found a man after him. It was always him. He too never found anyone else.

As she lay sleeping on her stomach, Vilkas stayed awake watching her. He was tired, but he couldn’t pry his eyes off of her. He never expected to see her again. She didn’t seek him out, but their fates were forced together once more, reminding them they belonged together.

He brushed the hair that fell out of her face and trailed fingers down the smooth curves of her body. Vilkas was going to be exhausted for training tomorrow, but he didn’t care. He was Harbinger now. If he wanted to sleep in, he would; certain the whelps would appreciate the break. 

Fingers slipped between her legs, feeling her get wet as she stirred, though she didn’t quite wake up. He sat up, spreading her legs, and planted his face between the cheeks of her ass, running a probing tongue in her tight hole. He knew she liked that, feeling her move as she woke up to his touches. He stretched her with fingers and her ass lifted in response to him. She was half asleep, but her body had always been responsive to him. 

Spreading her cheeks apart, he nudged at her entrance and worked his cock in with ease. It was so tight, but she loosened as she got used to him. Once he was hilted he slowly worked back and forth, rolling his hips as her ass rutted for more of him. _By Ysmir, he missed this_.

Mariel’s groans into the pillow sounded deep, guttural, feral in her ears as Vilkas pounded in her ass. She loved it and wanted more as her ass sought him, begging his cock to go deeper, harder, faster. Her hand reached for her clit, rubbing as he slammed into her ass. Anal sex and touching herself always gave her the best and strongest orgasms. 

A muffled cry into the pillow and her quivering body pulsing around his cock, sent Vilkas over the edge as he spilled into her. Her body settled down in its weakness as he fell on top of her. She may have been smaller, but she had always been able to handle his weight. Vilkas kissed along her sweaty back then stood to get a wet rag. After cleaning his seed from her ass, he laid back down, exhausted now. He pulled her into him, her back pressed against him as he cupped a breast. 

“I love you,” he whispered as he kissed her shoulder.

“I love you too,” she mumbled, already half asleep.

As Vilkas finally fell asleep, he felt whole again with Mariel in his arms and back in his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. Comments are always welcome and appreciated. Pairing suggestions or prompts are also welcome.


	23. Friendships

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With friends like these, who needs... friends? Three of her male friends find out her deepest fantasy and make it come true.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters tonight. This one and Chapter 22
> 
> This is foursome and the characters are all OC

I am the only woman among my three male friends who I have known for years. We are eating, drinking and singing during the festival. It is crowded in the tavern, but at least we have a table. I sit on Talas’ lap as there are only three chairs left in the place. I used to pine for him years ago, but I never tried anything, afraid of rejection and not wanting to ruin our friendship. If I am being honest, I often fantasized about fucking all of them at one point or another, and not just separately either. But I am quite content that they are all my good friends.

Thoughts of being face fucked while one of them rammed my ass filtered through my drunken mind, leaving me aroused. I quickly squash the feeling, so Talas doesn’t notice. The last thing I need is to seep through my dress while on his lap. How embarrassing would that be?

Talas heads to the privy, and before I can sit in his chair, Hjorn grabs me from behind, forcing me to sit on his lap. He tells me it is his turn to have my cute bottom on him. I roll my eyes, but I laugh. He’s always been a flirt. This is nothing new. Hjorn then reaches for a breast playfully, but instead of smacking his hand away as I usually do, I let him. Perhaps because I’m drunk. Then that intrusive fantasy flashes through my mind again unwanted. Or is it?

As a hand gropes my breast, Jolf leans into Hjorn’s ear and whispers something I can’t hear over the din in the tavern. Why did Hjorn’s eyes turn lustful? Or did I imagine that in my drunken haze? Then he leans in and whispers something back. Hjorn pulls away, and his face is close to Jolf’s as they eye each other. What’s going on?

Before I can analyze, Talas returns as I feel myself lifted back onto his lap. He claims that I am his as they all laugh. I punch him playfully, then grab my ale, chugging it back. As I wave the serving girl over to order another round, I feel a hand sliding up my dress. I look down as my brain tries to register what is happening. Instead of looking at Talas, I look at Hjorn and Jolf, wondering if they are seeing what I am. They were close—too close. Jolf’s arm is draped over Hjorn’s shoulder, both of them watching. An arm looks like it is reaching under the table for something. Have those two Nords always been interested in each other? How have I missed it all these years? Or have I? I’m not sure what I’m seeing is real or not through the ale coursing through me.

I assume because I don’t stop Talas, he lifts the skirts of my dress higher, exposing thigh. I look around to see if anyone notices, but everyone is drunk and celebrating. They take no notice of what is going on right next to them. A thumb grazes my clit through the fabric of my undergarments. I finally look at Talas, whose face is stoney, but eyes filled with lust. I spread my legs a bit farther apart, allowing him more access. Fingers play with my clit, and I know he can feel the wetness soaking through, but it doesn’t last. 

After we finish our round of drinks, Hjorn informs us it is time to go before we can no longer walk. He laughs as he grabs Jolf close to him, kissing. Yes, I missed the signs. Thoughts of foursome fantasies wash away at the sight as disappointment fills me. Why should I feel disappointed? It is not as if it will ever happen. These three men are my friends. I decide to be happy for them instead. 

I squeal and laugh as Talas flings me over his shoulder, carrying me out of the tavern. I demand he put me down, but he smacks my ass instead, telling me to behave. He is strong for a Bosmer, though he is lithe. I don’t know what is going on, but my friends are more mischievous than they usually are and I am just fine with that. It was a fun evening, but now it is over as we head back to our tent outside of town.

We had to make camp since there were no more rooms at the Drunken Huntsman and Bannered Mare. We prepared for it. As we stumble out of town, guards shake their heads at our laughing and wobbling. Most of the town is in a similar state.

I struggle to get down again, but I am rewarded with another smack. It makes me strangely aroused though I have never been smacked before. I like it. I am slung over Talas’s shoulder, unable to get down as he gives me pops on my ass and I want more. I feel a hand slide up through my dress again as I stiffen, but not because I want him to stop. I want him to continue. The signs are clear, right? Talas wants something sexual from me. He must. After all these years, why now? I squashed the questions and just accept it, worrying about the state of our friendship for another time.

More flashes of foursomes cross my mind with little control. My arousal grows as I wet my undergarments. I hope Talas doesn’t smell my arousal with my ass so close to his face. He lifts my skirts over my head, my bottom exposed and nibbles my ass cheek. Yes, he can smell it. I flush with embarrassment, yet it makes me more aroused. Visions of him pulling down my undergarments right there in the streets, exposing me, touching my pussy makes me burn between my legs. I squirm to give my clit friction, but instead, he gives me more smacks, telling me to hold still.

I distract myself by lifting my skirts that managed to drape over my head and look up to see Hjorn and Jolf stopping for a moment, groping each other’s cocks. Oh, gods, that was so hot. I whimper at the sight. Now my fantasies turn to imagining them fucking each other. I grow wetter and can now smell my own arousal, so I know Talas can smell it too. 

As soon as we make it out of the city gates, Talas pulls down my undergarments, exposing my ass as if he can read my mind. There is no one around, at least from what I can see because I am searching. The only ones who know what is going on are the four of us. Hjorn and Jolf hold hands with knowing smiles on their faces, watching me as Talas slips fingers in my wet pussy as he carries me back to our tent like a sack of flour. A sack of flour with a wet pussy. There is no such thing, but the image makes me giggle. 

But I stop laughing and close my eyes to the sensation of probing fingers as my brain tries to register what is going on. It knows what is happening but I cannot figure out why or how. I stop caring as fingers pump in my wet cunt. The feeling of helplessness and vulnerability fill me with fire. The desire to be fucked in every hole fills me. I want my ass and pussy filled with cock and I want my face fucked so hard I can’t breathe. A groan escapes my lips at the thought and from a finger slipping in the tight hole of my ass.

We finally reach our tent. There are several strewn about along the borders of Whiterun for the festival. Some people see us and eye us cautiously, but no one says anything. I am beyond caring or embarrassment. 

Talas puts me down and I scramble on hands and knees, struggling to free his cock. I have to have it. I want to suck it, be gagged with it. He lets me as I free him and shove him in my mouth. I groan as if I have eaten the most delectable dessert. The desire to be taken and used is overwhelming. I moan as he fists my hair and thrusts in my mouth. Yes, my body tingles in arousal, sending shivers through me as I try to consume him as deeply as I can. 

I whine as I am pulled away from Talas’ cock, but the reward was having three men undress me. I look at each man through dull and lustful eyes with confusion. I thought Hjorn and Jolf were together, but here they are, undressing me, groping breasts, fingers slipping in my holes. One of them kisses me, but I can't tell because my eyes are closed, feeling everything. I feel myself let go as hands and fingers explore my body. A wet finger that slipped out of my pussy is forced into my mouth as I suck on my own heady arousal.

A hand grips my hair, forcing my head to Hjorn’s cock. It is bigger than Talas’, and I am hungry for it, consuming him with eager abandon. I gag as he thrust deep down my throat, drool spills and my lips swell. I can only imagine what I look like, but the visual I have in my head builds the heat within me as it congregates between my legs. I reach for my clit, but a hand pulls me away. A whimper leaves me as the desire to come fills me.

Another hair grip and my face is ripped from one cock to another as it face-fucks me. All I can see is flesh and pubic hair. Fingers probe my pussy and my ass arches, wanting more. Fingers also intrude in my ass, stretching me. I have to breathe and stop for a moment, as drool spills when a tongue probes my asshole. A smack on my ass stings and sends me reeling with a want for more. My ass wiggles, imploring for another smack and I am rewarded. 

A cock slams in my mouth again as I choke on him. I have become familiar enough at this point with Talas and Hjorn’s cocks to know this must be Jolf’s. More probing as a cock slams into my hot, wet core. I am not ready for it as I am shoved forward, the cock thrusting deeper into my mouth. I gag. I want to be embarrassed about my friends fucking me and using my body for their pleasure, but I am hot for it. I want more. Another cock is shoved in my face as I devour it with hunger. I want their seed to spill in my face, all over my body. I want them to wash me in it as the heady smell of sex permeates the air in our tent. 

Someone thrusts fast and hard in my pussy. I assume it is Hjorn due to the size and full feeling. Come soon spills on my back and I am giddy with it. I want more and more. Another smack on my ass and I am forced on my back. Talas yanks my legs apart and pushes them back, licking my cunt. It would only take a second to come if he focused too much on my clit. As Talas devours my pussy, Jolf hovers over my face as my tongue reaches for his dangling balls. I want to suck them. I manage to catch one, letting it pop in my mouth like some ball of candy. 

My eyes roll up to see Hjorn hover and take Jolf’s cock in his mouth. I mewl at the sight. As I suck balls, my finger reaches into Hjorn’s mouth as he sucks Jolf. It is the hottest thing I have seen in… well, I couldn’t rightly remember. 

Talas’s tongue intrudes into my ass then runs all the way up through the folds of my cunt and focuses on my clit. Just a few swirls and flicks and I am coming, and coming, and coming. My scream is stifled by balls in my mouth. As the waves of orgasms diminish and wash over me, Talas slips inside with little effort, fucking me. Soon he is coming on my stomach and Jolf is coming in Hjorn’s mouth. 

Hjorn wipes come off his mouth and yanks Talas by the hair, planting a kiss on his lips as they wrap their tongues together, then it is Jolf and Talas kissing. As I lay there, exhausted and still inebriated with lust, arousal, and alcohol, all three men kiss me as we tangle our bodies down for the night. 

I fall asleep with wonder at what happened. We have been drunk before and it never resulted in a night like tonight. What changed? Fear gripped me that one of them got a hold of my journal. How else would they know so well what I wanted and desired? Did it really matter in the end? They gave me everything I fantasized about. I should have regrets, but all I have is a desire for more of it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments are always welcome and appreciated. Let me know if you would like a particular pairing.


	24. The General and The Bear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ulfric Stormcloak and General Tullius, once lovers during the Great War, have issues to deal with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angry sex.
> 
> M/M

Ulfric hung limply from his chains in the dungeons of Markarth awaiting whatever the Thalmor had planned for him. This was the second time he had been their prisoner. After last time, he knew what to expect. The Thalmor did nothing gentle as they obtained their information like starving maggots on a corpse. He had been betrayed yet again. First by his former lover and then Commander Tullius, now by the Jarl of Markarth. Ulfric was promised worship of Talos in the Dwemer city if he got rid of the Forsworn, which he did. Now he hung in prison, backstabbed when his award was found out by the Imperials and Thalmor. 

With his father recently deceased, Ulfric was now the new Jarl of Windhelm except he was in prison. All he could think about now was revenge. Revenge for the betrayals, revenge for losing his god by the very people he fought for, revenge for not being there for his father’s dying breath. He wanted them all slaughtered, even Tullius.

Ulfric loved the Imperial once, or so he thought. They spent many nights together when they weren’t busy pushing back the Thalmor, discussing dreams and futures while curled in each other’s arms with declarations of love. Tullius’ betrayal was the worst. Despite the torture and pain, that day was clear in Ulfric’s memories. 

The war just ended yet Ulfric remained the Thalmor prisoner the first time. Tullius walked in, eyes full of pain and sympathy at the state his lover was in. “Just give them what they want, Ulfric. I implore you. Give them what they want and they will let you go.”

So Ulfric gave the Thalmor what they wanted because he loved and trusted Tullius, which led to the capture of the Imperial City. All that death was his fault all because his lover told him to. Then come to find that Tullius was transferred to Solitude to oversee the transition of a Talos-free Skyrim. Ulfric hated the man for it. 

Ulfric was aroused out of his memories when he heard the keys scraping on the metal bars, opening the cell door. A Thalmor walked in and he assumed it was time for his torture. Instead, he was let go. He had no idea why they would choose to let him go. He knew well enough that he was the enemy in the Thalmor’s eyes and they didn’t let enemies go, not without a lot of pain. Anyone else would have been grateful for the reprieve from pain, but not Ulfric. His anger seethed. Nothing was going to stand in his way once he reached Windhelm. There he would gather allies and forces to make Skyrim for Nords only. No more outsiders will be allowed in. No more outsiders trying to change the way Nords live and believe. First, he had to kill the High King. Once Ulfric became King, then he would have the Jarls by his side and an immense army.

A few weeks later, back in Windhelm, it was late in the evening. Ulfric was sitting by the fire sipping brandy and reading missives in his private quarters when he heard a knock on his door. The shock that hit him staring at the man before him couldn’t be described by mere words. A flood of emotions hit him and if he were a younger man as he was back during the Great War, he might have shed a tear, but torture changes a man—hardens him. 

“Who the fuck let you in here,” he spat at his old lover. “I should kill you where you stand.”

“I know you hate me. I tried to write and tell you what happened…”

“As if I would read your letters. You make me tell secrets that led to the capture of the Imperial City and who knows how many deaths! I used to think you were a great man, but you’re just a coward—a puppet to the Thalmor! You never did understand our love of Talos. Get out before I call the guards.”

Instead of leaving, Tullius walked into Ulfric’s room as if he had been there a hundred times, slowly removing his gloves and cloak, tossing them on a chair. His Imperial armor gleamed, a sign he rarely saw battle anymore. 

“We need to talk, Ulfric.”

“There is nothing to talk about other than your surrender.”

“Then the rumors are true. You plan to start a war,” Tullius sighed in more of a statement rather than a question.

Ulfric’s hands fisted at his sides, trying to breathe calming breaths. “Is that why you are here? To talk me out of it? And all this time I thought you loved me,” he said, dripping with sarcasm.

“I do love you. That has never changed, but you have.”

“That’s the funny thing about torture and betrayal. It changes a person. But you didn’t care. You just wanted the war to be over with while I rotted in prison.”

Tullius rushed at Ulfric and slammed him back against the stonewall. The man was strong despite Ulfric being the larger of the two. “Fuck you! I did everything I could to get you out of that hole of Oblivion! Do you have any idea what it was like to see you hanging there, covered in wounds and scars? You were a shell of a man! I wanted you to stop fucking suffering! You did everything I asked you and you live because of it. They… wanted to kill you! It was planned anyway. Then you fucking blow it by going to Markarth and forcing Talos back. I had to pull some serious fucking strings to get you out of that Markarth prison.”

Ulfric ground his jaw in anger. He didn’t want to hear it. He didn’t want to stop being angry with his old lover, yet he didn’t move. “I will do anything for my people and restore their faith! You took my Nord brothers and sisters, led them to slaughter against an enemy that you gave in to. You gave the Aldmeri Dominion everything they asked for despite winning the war. The Imperials are cowards. What did you have to give up? Hmm? Why did the people of Skyrim have to give up their god after fighting by your side? This isn’t just about me!”

Tullis gripped Ulfric by the ears, pulling his head down so they rested their foreheads together. “Gods I miss you. Please don’t start this war. Let’s be together again. I know you don’t believe me, but I love you.”

Ulfric shoved the Imperial off of him, punched him in the face. “Lies! All you care about is your power. You just want me to be a good little Ulfric by your side while my people suffer!”

The General rubbed his jaw after he regained his balance and body-slammed himself into Ulfric. He heard the wind get knocked out of the Nord as he begged him to stop. Soon the two men were grappling on the floor, hitting punching, releasing all the anger and emotions that had carried the two men for years. All the pain and love finally spilled over as they both tried to hurt each other in a physical way. 

Hands fisted in each other’s hair, their faces bleeding, their anger soon gave way to kissing, still struggling in their grasp. Their mouths were hungry, angry as their tongues sought that familiar passionate touch. Soon, they were scrambling to remove armor and clothes. 

Standing and kissing, Ulfric dragged Tullius to the large bed that centered the room. It was a mistake his thoughts screamed in the back of his head, but body memory came back to him as he touched his old lover. He had no more control over this situation than he had breathing. All he knew was he had to have him again. He needed Tullius’ touch and his cock. Anger continued to drive the two men as their kissing and holding were aggressive and violent.

Tullius was on his back as Ulfric grasped his cock and shoved it in his mouth. He wasted no time bobbing his head fast, gagging, wanting to taste him, hurt him. The hair-pulling was painful but he pushed his lover’s cock as deep as it would go to the back of his throat. He needed him to come and spill all he could into his mouth, but Tullius shoved him off.

The Imperial shoved Ulfric on his back and grabbed his cock with force, shoving it in his own mouth. He was angry, but to taste him again sent a wave of emotions through him. The warm flesh was as familiar as it ever was. He knew every inch of skin, never to be forgotten. Grasping balls tightly, but gentle, Ulric moaned, gripping Tullius’ hair. 

“Enough! I need to be in you,” Ulfric demanded.

“Then fuck me,” he said as he rolled onto his stomach and lifted his ass in the air. 

Ulfric rushed to his table and pulled out the oil, slathering it all over Tullius’ tight hole, working the area. The fingers thrusting, stretching, sent waves of memories and emotions through Ulfric. He didn’t want to think about it, but his mind wouldn’t let them go as he took a shuddered breath. There was no stopping it. He had to have the Imperial.

It had been too long since they made love, but this wasn’t love. This was fucking. He wasted no more time, hovering his cock then worked it inside his ass. It wasn’t slow and easy. It was hard and rough. Tullius grunted but pushed back for more as their bodies slammed into each other, the slapping of flesh echoing in the room. 

With fingers gripping Tullius’ hips, Ulfric thrust fast and deep. The years of anger and pain culminated in each pump as the Imperial stroked himself. The grunts and moans were loud, frustrated, desperate. In mere moments, Ulfric exploded, yelling out, his cry strangled and soon Tullius followed. 

The surge of feelings coursed through both men as they came, but as the orgasmic waves settled down, Ulfric broke. He couldn’t remember the last time he wept. All his anger, all his rage, all his sense of betrayals and love for Tullius won out, and the dam burst. How was it possible to love a man yet hate him with every fiber of his being? So he wept on Tullius’ back. 

“Ulfric…”

“Get out,” the Jarl croaked.

Tullius tried to roll over and embrace his angry lover, but Ulfric would have none of it as he stood and wiped away angry tears. “Get out.”

“Please. Let’s work through this. I love you.”

Ulfric looked at the man he once would give his life for. “I love you too. And I hate you. Get out before I kill you.” His voice was soft, but the menace was clear.

Tullius wasted no more time with words. The Bear was unmoving. There would be no reconciliation. It was war. Their fucking was a last desperate attempt to feel something for each other one more time. It was a closure of sorts.

Once he had his armor back on, he grabbed his gloves and cloak, looking back at Ulfric. “I’m sorry it came to this.”

Ulfric remained silent as his old lover left and closed the door behind him. The next time he would see him would be on the battlefield.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments and prompts, pairings welcome.


	25. The Other Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is a guest for dinner, and his name is Brynjolf, an old friend of Daniel's from college. Sophie came home from work and got more than she bargained for, not that she was complaining.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters: This one and Chapter 24
> 
> Cuckolding
> 
> F/M

What a long day at work it was. Sophia was tired when she got home, slipping off her heels in the entryway. As she sat on the bench, she rubbed her tired and sore feet. Normally, she sat down most of the day, but today, she was busy running around. All she could think about was a nice glass of Chardonnay and a delicious meal. 

The house was filled with wonderful aromas of dinner. Her husband was a fantastic cook, being a chef and restaurant owner, grateful she didn’t have to do it. Her best meal consisted of boxed macaroni and cheese or a bowl of cereal. At least, that was what her normal dinners consisted of until she met her husband, Daniel.

As she walked into the large gourmet kitchen, she saw he wasn’t alone. A handsome red-headed man sat at their table, sipping a whiskey neat, dressed smartly in slacks and a sports jacket. Sophia had never seen the man before and wondered who he was. She gave Daniel a kiss as he introduced her to his friend. 

“This is Brynjolf, Soph. You remember, right? He’s a friend back in my college days. We communicated over the years, but he’s moved back into town.”

“Nice to meet you, Brynjolf,” Sophie said, smiling and extending her hand to shake his. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

“All good things, I hope,” he said, chuckling and shaking her hand. “You are even prettier in person than you are in your pictures Dan showed me.”

His hand was soft and warm, lingering a bit too long, then he withdrew it. “Well aren’t you a sweetie. Can we keep him, Daniel?” she asked as the two men laughed.

When she turned to her husband, he handed her a glass of wine, which she took gratefully. He always knew what she wanted, when she wanted it. 

She sat next to Brynjolf, sipping her wine and waiting on dinner. As she unclipped her dark hair, she shook it out, letting it fall across her shoulders. “That’s better. So, Brynjolf. What are you doing back in town? I have to say, it’s great to finally meet you after all these years of my husband talking about you. I was beginning to wonder if you two were lovers or something.”

Both men laughed again. “No, not lovers, but we were... very close in college. Then I got a job out of town after graduation. I transferred back when there was an opening in the company here. I promise you, it’s nothing exciting. I’m a director of a marketing company,” Brynjolf explained.

“Don’t let him fool you, Soph. Brynjolf here just got promoted,” Daniel said.

“Well, I suppose congratulations are in order,” she said, raising her drink in a toast as they clinked their glasses together. 

As Daniel got busy finishing up dinner, Brynjolf sipped his drink, watching Sophia, his green eyes narrowing at her. “I wasn’t joking when I said you are more beautiful than your pictures. Your hazel eyes are lovely.”

Sophia looked away, feeling a little embarrassed by the attention, but smiled and thanked him. 

As they ate their wonderful meal, they chatted about work, life, and catching up on all that was missed over the years between the two friends. There was more drinking and laughing. Sophia felt the stresses of the day wash off of her. There was something about good drinks, food, and friends to make one forget and remember to enjoy life. 

Daniel had his arm wrapped around her shoulder as Brynjolf was telling a story about his latest disaster of a relationship, but there was no bitterness, adding flairs of humor. Then she felt something on her thigh. When she looked down, Byrnjolf had rested his hand there as he talked. She barely knew the man, so it seemed strange he would touch her in such a way. As she looked up at her husband, she wondered if he saw what his friend was doing, but he gave no indication he saw anything as he laughed at Brynjolf’s story. So she moved her leg away, not saying anything. Perhaps he was just a touchy type of man.

“Let’s move to the living room,” Daniel said as they all left the kitchen. 

Her husband got a fire going as they all relaxed on the couch. Sophia tucked her feet under her and leaned into her husband who had his arm wrapped around her. There they continued to drink, tell stories, and laugh. When Daniel left for the kitchen to get them more drinks, Brynjolf sat closer to Sophia, resting a hand on her thigh again.

“How much has Dan told you about our college days?” he asked.

Sophia stared at his hand, then back at the man. She was getting a light buzz from the wine and the idea of this man’s hand on her thigh seemed less troublesome, but she worried in the back of her mind if her husband was going to freak out when he returned with their drinks. So she left his hand resting there. When Dan saw it, he would know what his friend was up to, so she told him that she knew of some stories, but not all.

When Daniel returned, he handed everyone drinks and sat down next to Sophia again. He had to have seen Brynjolf’s hand. It was impossible not to, yet he didn’t say anything. She turned to look at him and saw his eyes were drawn to her thigh being touched. Was that lust on his face? Surely not, but he definitely noticed.

Daniel’s hand slipped under her blouse, running gentle fingers on her stomach as they continued to talk as if nothing was amiss. His touches soothed her as she leaned her head back to his chest. As soon as she relaxed, Brynjolf pulled out one of her tucked legs, massaging a foot. Her brows furrowed, heart hammering wondering what was going on. 

When she tried to pull away, it was her husband who stopped her by pressing a kiss to her neck and slipping a hand under her bra. Her breath caught at his touch, relaxing once more, and let his friend continue massaging her foot. Daniel didn’t seem to mind what his friend was doing. Maybe he liked it. 

Daniel left Sophia and Brynjolf alone again, grabbing them more drinks, he said. As soon as her husband was out of the room, Brynjolf’s hand slid up her skirt, caressing her thigh. A flutter in her stomach hit her and instead of pulling away, she spread her legs apart ever so slightly. It was enough for him to notice. He smiled at her and slipped a finger under her lace panties, grazing her clit then inserting it into her pussy. She could feel herself growing wet, but the panic was there that Daniel would walk in at any moment and catch them. Where was he? She looked back at Brynjolf, watching her reaction as he penetrated her with his finger. An ache developed, pulsing around her clit. A familiar feeling of strong arousal. 

She was getting lost in the sensation, but Brynjolf pulled back her attention as he slid her panties off, tossing them to the floor. Why did she let him do that? He was terribly bold doing this to his friend, but she was doing this to her husband, wasn’t she? Doubt clouded her with a surge of guilt and pulled away, yanking down her skirt. When she looked around for Daniel, Sophia found him sitting in the chair next to the fire. When had he come in? How much did he see? She knew he saw everything and he was just watching, sipping on his whiskey, lust in his eyes.

Sophia looked at him apologetically, but Brynjolf slipped a hand under her skirt once more and Daniel gave her a slight nod, rubbing his cock through his pants. Did he want this? Was this a fantasy of his? If it was, it was news to her. Then again, they didn’t normally talk about their fantasies despite the great sex they frequently shared.

When she looked back at Brynjolf, his green eyes were intense and a small smile played his lips. It was a smirk really. His face was full of knowing as fingers explored between her legs, pulling apart her folds. Her breathing hitched and she gyrated on instinct to his touch, spreading her legs. She looked over at her husband again, heart hammering with lust and nervousness. She had to make sure he was still okay with what was going on, but he sat there with legs crossed, sipping his drink. His eyes glued to the scene before him. 

Hands reached up, unzipping her skirt and slowly pulled it off of her. She was now naked from the waist down. Her husband was still watching intently as Brynjolf spread her legs apart, kissing her inner thighs. Sophia excepted the touches as she leaned back on the couch, giving in. Fingers thrust in and out of her, feeling his hot breath so close. She squirmed with the urge to have his tongue pressed up against her. She could hear the wetness squishing down there. She shouldn’t be this wet with another man touching her, but as she watched her husband watching, there was something hot about it all. 

Brynjolf, moved up her body, unbuttoning her blouse, spreading out the delicate fabric, and ran a hand along the skin of her stomach. He then lifted her and slid the blouse off of her arms and reached around, unclasping her bra, pulling it off. She was now naked, lying there for both men to see. 

“You didn’t tell me how hot her body was, Dan. I hope she’s as delicious as she looks.”

Her husband remained silent, watching his friend stand to remove all his clothes. As she stared, her hand reached to her clit as she rubbed, pulling back the hood from her tiny bundle of nerves. She needed to come but then turned to her husband again. His eyes were dark with lust, his cock bulging through his pants, focusing on the scene before him. 

The redhead hovered over her then pressed his lips to hers. With one hand fisted in her hair, he shoved his tongue in her mouth. The kiss was hot, forceful, erotic because it wasn’t her husband. There was no tenderness there. Only lust, want, and need. Brynjolf’s mouth moved down her neck, chest, then sucked on a nipple. She arched her back into his mouth when he bit it. It was painful, she wanted more and he obliged. A hiss and a moan escaped her lips as he nibbled. One hand reached between her legs, while his mouth worked her breasts, sucking, biting, licking. It worked her into a frenzy, her body growing hot with need.

Lips trailed down, down, down until Brynjolf was facing her wet cunt. She was hot for it, thrusting her pussy towards his warm breath as he inhaled her arousal. 

“Tell me to lick you,” Brynjolf ordered.

“Huh?”

“Tell me or you get nothing.”

“I want you to lick me. Please,” she said, closing her eyes in heated desire with a strange combination of shame. The entire scene almost seemed debauched, but she wanted it. Never had she thought of being with another man since she met Daniel, but he wanted this. He derived pleasure watching her in pleasure from someone else. So, she raised her feet, placing them on his shoulders, and spread her thighs in desperate invitation. Her eyes were still closed as the man ran a tongue through her folds, lapping up her juices that flowed from her desire. He was intent, knowing what to do, lapping her with long strokes so she didn’t come too fast, but focused on her clit. A quick and shuddered breath escaped her as the pleasure mounted between her legs.

The little nerves vibrated and sent waves of currents through her when his tongue hit her just so. He licked, nibbled, sucked...

Sophia sensed a presence and when she opened her eyes, she saw her husband sitting on the coffee table, watching, face glued on what Brynjolf was doing. Apparently, he wanted a closer look as his friend devoured her cunt. He wasn’t rubbing himself, but he was getting off on it. She could tell. He was completely turned on by his wife's arousal from another man. Sophia wasn’t sure how this was different from cheating, but her husband seemed to want it and welcome it. 

Her attention lost focus on her husband as Brynjolf dug in with his tongue, focused now on her clit. He was good. He knew exactly how hard, fast, and where to focus. The heat built in her cunt, feeling the mounting and welcoming pressure, knowing she was going to come soon. Legs spread wider as she grabbed the thick red hair in her fingers, pulling his face to her.

The cry that escaped her lips was loud as she exploded, pussy pulsing as Brynjolf licked, shoving fingers in and out as the muscles contracted around them. She knew her face was filled with ecstasy and she wondered what her husband felt when he saw her reaction, but she was unable to open her eyes for the moment as she came down from her orgasmic high. 

“Delicious,” Brynjolf said. “Would you like to be fucked now? Do you like your body to be used?”

“Yes,” was all she could mutter.

“Tell me.”

“Ah... fuck me. Use me.”

Brynjolf flipped her body over with ease, adjusting her. She was face down on the couch as he lifted her ass in the air, her pussy exposed to both men. There was something so erotic knowing her husband was watching, seeing everything. Her cunt burned again with the thought, wetness dripping down her thighs. 

Hands rubbed her ass, not knowing which man was doing it, but she had a feeling her husband just wanted to watch. Those gentle hands soon turned to smacks as the sound resonated through the room along with her yelp of surprise. It stung, but she liked it, her ass rising for more rather than shrinking away. Her husband frequently spanked her per her wishes, so he must have told Brynjolf what she liked. 

Sophia felt adjustments behind her, knowing the man was getting ready to fuck her as he grabbed her hips. Then felt the familiar nudging of a cock into her pussy and in one fluid movement, he was hilted with little effort, she was so wet, but he stopped for a moment as if steadying himself.

“You didn’t tell me how tight she was,” he said. “Fuck.”

Her husband remained silent and she knew he was watching, turned on as his friend fucked his wife. Sophia grew even more wet imagining her husband’s face, staring, wondering what was going on in his mind.

Brynjolf’s cock was large and her pussy took a moment to get used to him. Her husband wasn’t exactly small either, but she knew his cock inside and out. The new cock was alien to her body, but she welcomed it, especially knowing her husband enjoyed the scene. She was more than happy to please him if this was what he wanted. 

The thrusts picked up speed, taking every inch of him. She was filled with lust and need once more, but she was limp, letting him pound into her. Thoughts of him spilling come all over her back nearly sent her over the edge. The sounds that could be heard was the slapping of flesh against flesh and her grunts with each thrust. With one more hard smack to her ass, he pulled out and came all over her back, feeling the sputtering, hot liquid spread then cool. 

Sophia’s eyes were closed, trying to catch her breath and steady her heart, resting, face down on the couch. She felt Brynjolf get up, probably to clean up and get dressed. Instead, he squatted down and faced her, pulling hair out of her face and kissed her on the lips. He then lifted her upright right. She felt like a rag doll as she tried to sit up. 

She watched him take her husband’s face and kiss him the same way he kissed her. She got it then, understood what her husband felt in watching her get fucked. It was hot watching the two men kiss. 

Brynjolf lifted Daniel to stand and unbuckled his pants, removing them along with his boxers. Sophia thought he was going to suck him off, but instead led her husband to her, his cock inches from her face. Yes, she wanted him. She wanted to suck him and have his come spill down her throat. 

Daniel fisted her hair, pulling her face towards his cock, shoving it in her mouth while Brynjolf sat on the other end of the sofa, naked, watching. 

“Did you want to suck his cock, Soph?” he asked as he grabbed her hair tighter, thrusting, gagging.

All she could do was grunt in response. 

He yanked her head away, pulling out his cock. “Answer me.”

“Yes.”

“Fuck,” he hissed, thrusting his cock on her mouth once more. It was hard and forceful. She liked feeling used. He didn’t say it out of anger but from arousal. “Did you like him eating you, fucking you?”

She grunted in acknowledgment as she sucked him, trying not to gag as he rammed his cock down her throat with force.

“You looked so beautiful getting fucked. I loved watching him eat your pussy.”

His words must have heated him as he thrust faster, his hand tightening in her hair. It hurt and was uncomfortable, but she didn’t care.

“I nearly spilled in my pants watching your face when you came, seeing your wet pussy in the air. Fuck, when he spanked you… Do you know how much control it took for me not to shove him away and take you?” he said between thrusts.

Another grunt from her.

Rehashing what Brynjolf did to her in words as he thrust in her mouth had him exploding, feeling him spill down her throat as she wanted. She grabbed his hips and took it all, swallowing, until he could give no more.

She fell back on the couch when he was done, wiping some come off her lips. Sophia felt herself being pulled and looked to see Brynjolf dragging her into him. She leaned back into his chest as he wrapped an arm around her, playing with a breast. Her husband plopped down next to her, laid down on his back, head resting in her lap as she ran fingers through his hair.

“That was so fucking hot,” Daniel said.

“I never knew,” Sophie responded.

“Yes, cuckolding is a fantasy of mine, something I had not done in a very long time. Brynjolf reminded me how much I enjoyed it when he came over tonight. We talked it over and decided to try it.”

“Did you like it?” Brynjolf whispered in her ear.

“Yes.”

Her husband looked up at her expectantly. “Did you really? I… I was worried I would make you feel too uncomfortable.”

“It was at first, but I realized it was something you wanted. I did like it. If this is what you want, I can do it for you.”

“I do. Fuck, I love you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments, prompts, and pairings welcome.


	26. A Fire Within

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anyaie and Hadvar escape from Helgen barely with their lives and make to safety to the sleepy little town of Riverwood. Once things settle down and reality sets in, it is either she breaks down into a weepy mess, or she walks into the arms of the man who helped save her life. It's escapism for her. It means so much more to Hadvar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I have been seriously shipping these two since reading solstice_sweetheart's [The Harbinger's Blood](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25983958). Her character and Hadvar aren't the main components of the story, but I really wanted to delve into them. Anyaie is a complex character and it's been fun reading her grow. Thanks, solstice-sweetheart for letting me write this.
> 
> The image of Hadvar is from my NPC overhaul. I don't have one of Anyaie since she's not my character or creation.

I fell to my knees, scraping them bloody on the loose gravel as I fled in the chaos that was Helgen. I didn’t know if I should have been grateful to the dragon that saved me from my assumed inevitable beheading. But the dragon didn’t seem to care who lived or died as it sprayed the townsfolk and soldiers alike in a bath of fire. My mind was too focused on surviving to grasp the fear I know I should have felt in my body. My only instinct was to run, my mind nearly blank.

Strong hands lifted me upright, pulling me by my arm. When I saw the Imperial soldier, I wanted to pull away, but he reassured me, telling me to follow him if I wanted to live. I very much wanted to live, so I ran after him. We ducked behind wood-framed houses caught on fire and crumbling towers until we reached inside the hold where they kept the prisoners. 

Once again, I balked. Was this man going to imprison me again after all this? I refused to go back. The soldier must have sensed my hesitation. 

“I won’t hurt you. I don’t believe you belonged on that cart,” he assured me.

“You didn’t?” My voice sounded strange in my ears, strained.

“No. Now come on. We have to find a way out of here and to safety away from Helgen.”

I decided to trust the redheaded soldier. His face was kind, trusting. I remembered when I hopped off the wagon and his face was full of empathy at my situation, but his hands were tied to do anything about it.

“Fine. Let’s go.”

The keep was in chaos. Not just from the dragon trying to destroy the world, it seemed, but the Stormcloaks and Imperials were fighting amongst themselves. _Don’t these people realize we have bigger problems? Fools!_ I was clueless in the ways of battle, only familiar with restoration magic for the most part. But I picked up an ax from a dead Stormcloak soldier as we made our way deeper inside the keep.

I followed the soldier close behind, secure around his presence than if I were alone. I am not sure I would have gotten through the disaster had I relied on my own lack of fighting abilities. 

Fortunately, I didn’t have to kill anyone. The soldier did just fine on his own, but I felt like a fool cowering behind him, vowing to myself I would learn to defend myself after this. Once we pushed through several Stormcloaks, he was injured, so I spent some time healing his wounds.

“I have to admit, I didn’t expect you to care enough to heal me. Thank you,” he said.

“Well, you’re my shield, after all,” I quipped.

Fortunately, he took it as a joke and gave me a chuckle instead of getting offended. I was grateful for that too.

The keep led deep underground, and we found ourselves in a cave. The path crumbled behind us, blocking our way, so we had no choice but to press forward. 

“Be wary. There are creatures that lurk about in caves like this,” he whispered.

I stayed close to my new-found partner. He seemed safe encased in his thick armor—my personal shield. 

After we fought off a bear and several massive spiders, we made it free and clear of the cave. The cold air never smelled or tasted so good. I took a deep breath, scarcely believing I was alive after that fiasco. Being captured for no reason, almost being put to death, a dragon, battles, bears, and spiders were more than most people handled in their lifetime. It was a surprise I was still standing in one piece with my sanity intact. I was sure it would hit me later.

The man yanked me to the ground, almost ripping my arm out of its socket. 

“Wait,” he said, looking up at the sky, and my eyes followed.

The dragon that attacked Helgen flew off towards the mountains ahead. I guess it had its fun and moved on to the next massacre.

“It Looks like he’s gone for good, but I don’t think we should stick around to see if he comes back,” he said, humor in his voice.

I wanted to smile back, but I didn’t know what to do as I stood there, arms wrapped around me. Now that we weren’t running for our lives, I was freezing in the early morning air, wearing only prison clothes. 

“Well, I guess I should go. You’re safe now. The closest town from here is Riverwood, just that way.” The soldier pointed in the direction I should go. “My uncle is a blacksmith there. I’m sure he will help you out. Tell him Hadvar sent you.”

“You’re just going to let me go?” I still found it hard to believe that the Imperials wanted me dead for reasons unknown, and this man was willing to just let me go.

“Aye. You’re not guilty. Let’s not forget you healed me when you didn’t have to.”

I must have still looked uncertain since I wasn’t moving. 

“Look, how about I take you there? I have to warn the town anyway since the dragon flew that way. Why don’t you just follow me?”

I looked up at him. Despite the blood and dirt all over his face, he was young and handsome. His eyes were trusting. Hadvar held out his hand, and I took it as we started walking. 

“You sure are quiet.”

I barked out a laugh for the first time at the irony. My parents used to scold me for talking so much. “That is not generally what people say when they talk about me. I’m… it’s just been a trying day and I’m still trying to wrap my head around everything. I still don’t know why I was captured.”

“When I make it back to Solitude, I will reach out to General Tullius to let him know what happened and tell him of your innocence.”

“Why? That seems a lot for someone you don’t know.” I didn’t understand this man. I appreciated his help, but to go out of his way to obtain my innocence was a surprise. 

“Because it’s the right thing to do,” he simply said. 

More gratefulness. I would have considered myself lucky, but if I had any luck, I wouldn’t have been put in this situation in the first place. So I cursed whatever divine put me in Helgen this day.

“Thank you,” I said. Those two simple words were inadequate, but it was all I was able to muster together.

At least Riverwood wasn’t far. We spent most of our walk in silence, with Hadvar telling a story about the ominous ruins atop the mountain and how they scared him as a child. It was a personal story coming from someone I barely knew, but I listened. Anything was better than rehashing what happened in Helgen.

Riverwood was a sleepy little town, full of lush trees, a waterfall that filled into a small river, and a smattering of buildings. It was quaint and pleasant. 

Hadvar’s uncle, Alvor, was also pleasant, along with the rest of his family. We explained what happened in Helgen and his family fed us dinner. I was ravenous. I didn’t realize how hungry until the stew was in my face. I wish I could say I was lady-like, but I scarfed it down as if it was my first meal. When one was running for their lives, it was easy to forget basic necessities for life.

“Come on. Let’s get cleaned up. I wish I could say we have warm baths, but this is a small town. All we have is the river,” Hadvar explained, handing me a bundle of clothes and a towel. “The clothes are Sidgrid’s. She’s taller than you, but it’s better than wearing torn prison clothes, I would assume.”

“Thank you, Hadvar.”

“It’s my pleasure, Anyaie.”

“You remember my name?”

“I remember everyone who is put to the block. I am sorry it happened to you, but I am pleased you live.”

“Yeah, living is good.”

I followed Hadvar upstream towards the woods, away from prying eyes. I wasn’t looking forward to bathing in frigid waters, but I was desperate to be clean. I was covered in dirt, blood, and I wouldn’t be surprised if my face coated in dry snot. Not the most pleasant of visuals. I was sure I didn’t smell too good either. At least the day was warming up.

Along with the bundle of clothes and towel, was a bar of soap. _Yes, cleanliness is good._ When I looked up, Hadvar already removed his armor and was pulling his tunic over his head. The muscles in his back rippled and his skin smooth from youth. He may have been a soldier, but I doubt he saw many battles beyond what we went through today. I wasn’t sure why, but I sensed a strange sense of arousal watching him disrobe. He didn’t fully undress, wearing his linen breeches in the water. I had to admit; I wished he removed those too.

Hadvar got in the water and got clean, scrubbing his skin with soap as the filth washed away.

“I won’t look. Get clean, Anyaie,” he promised.

He was a gentleman too. I got undressed, fully naked. I didn’t relish the idea of wearing wet undergarments under my clothes. I then took the plunge. I squealed when the cold water lapped at my skin, breaking out in goosebumps. I would have given anything for a warm bath, but I told myself I should be thankful to be alive to bathe at all. 

I washed as fast as I could so I could get out and dry off. Once I was clean enough, I scrambled out of the water and rushed to wrap the towel around me. It was large and covered most of me, so I took in its warmth and sat there for a moment, watching him with his back to me. 

Between the light of Mundus warming my cold and tired bones and the sound of the trickling water, my eyes grew heavy as I rested my head on my knees, but I didn’t want to fall asleep, so I stood up to dry off. The memories of the horrors of that morning hit me and hit me hard as my hands shook. Near-death was no simple thing to move past from. Twice I almost died. Once from a beheading and the second from the dragon. I cursed, wondering what god I pissed off to deserve what happened to me. I wanted to cry, but instead, I chose to be angry. Anything was better than weeping.

Hadvar walked out of the water, seemingly not cold at all. It must have been his Nord blood. He bent down to grab his towel. I watched him as the anger washed away, distracted. All I could think about was the tightening of his muscles as he moved, each one in tune with the other as they worked to dry his flesh. Something came over me. Perhaps it was the horrid day I had of nearly losing my life, but I craved that smooth and hard skin. I wanted to touch it, run my hands through his wet red hair. I needed something to take me to a different place from which I came.

A fire burned between my legs as my feet moved before my mind did, walking towards him. By the time he saw me coming, my towel was already bundled on the grass. His eyes flashed in confusion, but soon turned to lust. I was sure what I wanted was clear as day. I was naked after all. I saw the bulge form in his wet breeches. Good. I wanted him to want me too, not wanting to beg or work for it. It was either fuck or cry. I hated to cry.

He turned to face me, arms outstretched when I headed towards him. The muscular arms enveloped me in their warmth. I was safe in them. I thanked the gods he didn’t turn me away as my face reached up to him, lips begging for him to reach down. And he did. Our mouths met. His lips as soft as they looked. I loved a man with fuller lips. My tongue breached his mouth. His tongue was more uncertain but seemed to follow my lead as he grew bolder. 

My hands snaked up his back and tangled in his hair, pulling his face down closer as if I needed to consume him. Why wasn’t he grabbing at me, tugging, pulling? I hungered for his touch, but his arms remained wrapped around my body. I was heat and fire. He was just an ember. I needed him to burn as much as I was. 

As we kissed, I pulled his arm away, placing his hand on my breast. His breath caught and became haggard as my nipple hardened under his palm. He didn’t move for a moment. Why was he stalling? _Touch me, dammit!_ As if he could hear my very thoughts, his fingers explored, grazing a thumb across my nipple. I gyrated against his thigh in response, arching my back into him. My body was desperate, sending him signals in what I wanted without using my words. 

When I placed my hand on his bulge he stepped back, gasping for breath. 

“I… I…,” he sputtered. 

I was angry. I was fire. Why was he pulling away and not fucking me? I choked back on my anger, not wanting to push him away further.

“Please, touch me. I need this.” It felt like begging, and perhaps it was. I was desperate for him.

Hadvar’s face turned bright red, looking away, but a small smile played on his lips. I knew then he was unfamiliar with a woman’s body. _Crap._ I was too impatient to teach him things, but it would have to do. There was no one else. If I was going to do this, I had to be gentle despite wanting to be pounded into oblivion. He could pound me later. 

“I am sorry. I see you want something that I am—”

“Unfamiliar with?” I finished for him.

He nodded. “Aye, but I want you.”

His words softened my resolve. The man before me was kind and innocent. I would have to treat him accordingly if I wanted this. I also didn’t want his first time to be ruinous for him. My first time was pathetic. I didn’t reflect back on it with fondness, but that didn’t mean Hadvar had to share in my experiences. He would have something pleasant to look back on for his first time. I could have walked away, but his virginity didn’t dampen the heat within me.

“Are you sure?” I asked. I didn’t want to force the man.

Hadvar reached for me and pulled me close, a hand cupping my breast. “Aye, I’m sure. Just… be patient with me.”

We reached for each other once more, our kiss deepening as he grew bolder in the exploration of my body. I also ran my fingers along the soft yet rigid lines of his muscles, wishing he was more experienced and would just take me. I wanted to give in to his will and desire—to lose control. 

My hand reached for his bulge again, but this time he didn’t pull away, allowing it to happen. He moaned in my mouth. If he found a simple touch that pleasurable, he would be surprised by what I had in store for him. His reaction changed something inside me. I wanted to give him wonderful memories for his first time. 

I had to see it. I had to taste it, so I dropped to my knees, untying his breeches. It was hard to pull them down as they were wet, but he helped. Our efforts rewarded me with a bouncing cock that popped out as if relishing in its freedom from the tight confines of the pants. It was perfect—large and thick. I couldn’t wait to wrap my mouth around it then have it spread me, fill me.

The tip glistened with pre-cum in his excitement. But despite him being inexperienced, he certainly had a good idea of what I was about to do as his strong fingers raked through my hair. At least he had some knowledge of how it all worked. 

I inhaled the warmth of his cock. It was fresh with his recent wash, but the musky arousal in him was wafting off his skin. It fueled my fire as my wetness trickled down my thigh, tickling the skin. I looked up at him, seeing his eyes shut as if taking in everything I was doing and I had yet to put him in my mouth. 

I grasped him with one hand and devoured his hardened flesh into my mouth as deep as it would go. A whimper escaped him and I couldn’t help but smile. It was a powerful thing to draw out pleasure from someone. His cock pulsed in my mouth, growing warm as I bobbed my head. I could taste the saltiness of his pre-cum leaking into my mouth. It spurred me to move faster, harder, deeper. I wanted to choke on it. 

Fingers tightened in my hair, then yanked my head away as he gasped. “Stop… stop. By the nine. I’m… going to finish too early.”

“That’s the point, isn’t it?”

“No, it’s not. I want to make love to you.”

 _Make love?_ I wanted to be fucked, and he wanted tenderness. I supposed I couldn’t blame him. 

“Show me,” he said.

“What do you want me to show you?” I asked, standing up as he grasped a breast and kissed my neck. “Be specific.”

I know he was hiding his face in my neck, not facing me through shyness or embarrassment, his fiery breath caressed my skin, sending shivers down my arm. 

“I want to do what you just did to me. I want to have that power.”

How I yearned for him at that moment. My smoldering flame became a bonfire. His words were kindling that sent chills through my body despite my heat. It was my duty for womanhood to show him how we liked it. What we did here on out would carry with him to future lovers—a wife, perhaps. Maybe it was arrogant of me to think I could change a man like that. In the end, we do what we want.

I pulled him down on the soft grass with me and removed his breeches. We lay there, both naked under the warmth of Mundus. He hovered above me, resting on an elbow as the light shone through his hair, creating this halo effect around him. Hadvar bent down and kissed me, then trailed his lips down my body, stopping at a breast. I arched into his eager mouth as he nibbled on a nipple. Maybe it was instinct for men to know what to do with a woman’s breast because I didn’t have to guide him at all. His mouth was delicious against my flesh. His touches took me away from the mental pain and fear that threatened to take hold of me. I didn’t want it. Having Hadvar was the only way to keep such thoughts from their intrusion.

I wanted him inside me still—to pound me. I didn’t need tenderness, but this was acceptable. Down, down, down his lips went until he was facing my hot mound. I spread my legs for him, opening up like a bloom that’s been kissed by the morning light. I understood then what a flower must feel like each day as it grows. My core grew wet for him and it pulsed in anticipation for his tongue, his lips, his teeth.

I guided his face with hands and body movement where I wanted him. I found it strange that I was not uncomfortable telling him what I wanted. He was eager to please and did everything I told him. It took adjustments and time, but pumping fingers and a firm tongue on my clit burned me from within. I could sense pressure build, grow, and centralize. I was close. I wreathed under his ministrations as he devoured me—worshiped me with his mouth. There was little warning when the explosion came. I cried out in the afternoon light, scaring the birds, feeling his hands grasp my hips tightly as he dug deeper. My body riddled with electric currents until I could take no more. 

I pulled his head away and lifted it towards my awaiting mouth, tasting my arousal on his lips and tongue. As our kiss became heated, building faster, greedy and hungry, Hadvar shifted to plunge into me. It was awkward, with frustrated grunts until the head pressed against my awaiting hole, still quivering from the aftershock of my orgasm. 

With slow thrusts, his cock was hilted in me like a sword to its sheath. It was clichéd, but I couldn’t help the visual that flashed in my mind. Hadvar shuddered and gasped for breath when he entered me. He lay there for a moment, unmoving as if to catch his breath. Perhaps he was. He lay still for so long; I wondered if he was going to move at all. 

“Gods, you feel so good. I… I had no idea a woman could be so warm, so wet, so perfectly fit around me,” he whispered in my throat, his deep voice sending vibrations through my chest.

His words tore through me and I wanted him to fuck me, and fuck me hard. I wanted it deep, fast, hard… with a little pain. I wanted to escape into him—into his body. Finally, he moved, and I nearly wept in desperate relief. His movements were frustratingly slow and purposeful. I willed him to move faster, but everything he did had intention. I supposed I couldn’t fault him with this being his first time. He probably wanted to enjoy every sensation and not come too fast. It was more than was ever given to me, so I let him have his moment instead of pleading. As long as he kept the fear at bay, I was happy. 

He picked up speed as his thrusts deepened. Yes, this was what I wanted. I wrapped my legs around his waist as he panted between kisses on my lips, face, and neck. I tightened my body against him to feel every inch of him as he pounded into me. My hands clung to his thick hair as if a lifeline to keep from drowning in pleasure. Another orgasm tore through me, pulsing around him. The sensation proved too much for him as he too cried out, calling out the names of the divines, grunting with each force as he came. 

Once our hearts settled and our breathing slowed, Hadvar pulled out of me and rolled over on his side facing me. He twirled a finger on my nipple, hardening it again. It was strange how my body still yearned for his. I was far from being done. 

Hadvar sat up and grabbed his large towel and draped it over our naked bodies, then pulled me close to him, holding me in his tight embrace.

“That was better than I ever imagined my first being,” he said, his voice hoarse from his orgasmic high.

I snuggled into him. It wasn’t that I was a big snuggler, but I still wanted to get lost in him and I was tired, so very tired. His flesh was reassuring, comforting, and brought me pleasure instead of the pain we faced earlier that day. I pushed the fear deep down inside me and focused on his breathing as I fell asleep in the warmth of his arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments are always welcome and appreciated. Feel free to see if there are characters you want to see paired.


	27. The V.P.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Olivia, the President of her successful company starts to fantasize about her V.P., Evan. Little does she know he's willing to fulfill that for her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an original work set in a modern setting. Well, all the stories are fairly original, just using Skyrim characters to tell them, but these two characters are original too. 
> 
> I wanted to get something out for Thanksgiving ;).

She sat in her leather office chair, enjoying the expanse of the city below her, watching the world move, oblivious to her existence, but she was aware of theirs. It was one of Olivia’s favorite times of the day. Most of the office had gone home for the evening, returning to lovers, family, and friends. Maybe they were alone like she was. The ones that remained were the overachievers like her. 

Olivia enjoyed this time of day because it was quiet and she had a moment to herself as the busy day wound down, grateful to the silence of her phone and ignoring all email. She built this company from the ground up at the expense of love or some sort of social life. Her company was her life, having to work twice as hard as any man to prove herself and her worth. Now at forty years old in a couple of days, it forced her to recognize all that she sacrificed for success. Especially so today since the holidays were coming up and tomorrow was Thanksgiving. 

She had no family to speak of. Her parents died unexpectedly a couple of years ago and she was an only child. Before their death, she always had a place to spend the holidays. Now she was alone. While it was something she was used to and of her own doing, she started questioning it of late.

Sure she had lovers, but they were far and few between. There hadn’t much time to devote to something meaningful. It wasn’t fair for them; it wasn’t fair to her. So she refrained from attachments. Not only did she have to make her business successful, but she earned the respect she now enjoyed being at the top of her game. But being at the top was lonely, especially as a woman.

She pulled off her heels, then opened a desk drawer and pulled out her bottle of Maker’s whiskey, pouring a small amount into the crystal tumbler. She brought the tumbler to her nose and inhaled the strong contents in the glass. It was her favorite, drinking it neat. Each evening at this time, she would indulge in a glass of whiskey as if in celebration of her achievements, reminding herself that though she worked hard, she was fortunate too. She lifted her glass to the outside world in salute and took a long sip, feeling the alcohol burn as it went down. 

Now, nearing forty, thoughts of being alone forever intruded her mind unwanted, especially since the holidays were nearing. Was it normal for women her age to start thinking of life beyond their own successes? This was a recent phenomenon for her. She never gave such things much thought, blaming the past Friday night for it. 

Her company managed to snag a massive contract. Well, the Vice President of the company did. Evan Rickert was a powerhouse. He was deeply intense and motivated. Olivia brought him on board three years ago and she never regretted it—until now. Oh, she was ecstatic about the contract, but it was something else entirely. It was personal. 

Several of them headed to the bar around the corner, a posh place that opened up a month ago. They wanted to celebrate, as well as they should. Olivia didn’t go out drinking normally. It took a lot of coaxing from her staff to do so. Evan wasn’t one to go out either, but the two were dragged out with reluctance. They did their best for their employees, making them happy. That meant they would mingle once in a while. 

It was all well and good until the evening wore on. Olivia had entirely too much fun and so did Evan. In an unusual turn of events, and several drinks, they ended up dancing together. She couldn’t even remember the last time she danced. Everything was innocent and nothing happened, but she couldn’t let go of the memories of his touch. 

As they danced, Evan pulled her close to him. His body was taught with muscle. She knew he was fit, but had no idea how hard he was. The feel of his warm hand smooth up and down her back had her eyes closed at the memory. His hazel-green eyes were as intense as he was when he looked down on her, spinning her slowly around the dance floor. Olivia couldn’t remember him asking, just that it happened. She loved his cologne too. It wasn’t overpowering. It was fresh and crisp with a hint of spice. Olivia tried to recall the scent, but it escaped her.

Since then, each evening she would sit after work, sip on her whiskey and fantasize about Evan. Not about the dance, but what happens after—what she wanted to happen after. He would take her home and ravish her body the entire night. She never thought of Evan in a sexual way, but there it was, fantasies taking over her mind. One night, she even had a dream about it and woke up having to masturbate. She could have pushed them away as she always did when it came to men, but this time she didn’t want to. Nothing would come of it anyway. Olivia wasn’t sure if she was disappointed by the thought or relieved.

The knock on her door startled her out of her reverie. It was dark outside and almost everyone should be gone, so it was a surprise someone was bothering her. She found herself getting irritated at being interrupted from her quiet time.

“It’s open,” she yelled, not feeling like getting up.

To her surprise, it was Evan who walked in. His tie was still on, but loosened, as was his suit jacket. His wavy brown hair threaded with grays gave him a distinguished look. She hated men for the fact that they aged so well, though he was only a few years older than she was. Why did he have to be so attractive? She never gave it much thought until that night after they danced.

“Evan. What are you still doing here?”

“I was wrapping up some work and lost track of time. I was heading out and saw the light under your door. I know this is your personal time to wind down. Sorry for the intrusion. I just wanted you to take a look at this. It requires a signature and I have to get it sent out first thing in the morning.”

“It’s Thanksgiving tomorrow,” she replied.

He shrugged his broad shoulders. “They want it tomorrow.”

Disappointment flooded her. Olivia wasn’t sure why. Maybe deep down, she was hoping he was there for another reason. A personal reason. Did she want him to want her? Yes. Why should she be the only one to fantasize about them. It was a silly notion, but it persisted like a festering sore. Irritating and unwanted.

“Sure, let me have a look,” she replied, taking the proffered document, making sure not to give away any of the emotions she was feeling.

Evan sat down, crossing his long legs as he waited while she read. When she was done, she signed it and handed it back. “Everything looks to be in order.”

“Thanks, Oliva.” 

He stood, but he didn’t leave. He was looking down at the document in his hands, but his face seemed like he wanted to say something, brows furrowed. If she didn’t know better, she thought he looked agitated. Olivia waited him out, wondering what got him so flustered, but he remained silent, unmoving. Maybe a drink would get him to relax.

“Sit, Evan,” she ordered and pulled out another tumbler, pouring him some whiskey. 

When she handed him the glass, he chugged it down, leaving her in shock. “Another?” she asked and he nodded. But Evan sipped this one instead, not looking at her.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked, knowing something was bothering her normally stoic and intense V.P.

He barked out a laugh, but there was little humor in it. “No,” he said, taking another sip.

“Bad day?” she tried again.

“In a way.”

“Come on, Evan. You can talk to me. What’s got you so stressed?”

Her V.P. chugged the rest of his whiskey and she poured him another. Apparently, he needed some liquid courage. Something bad must have truly happened because Olivia had never seen her V.P. this agitated. He was normally calm, cool, and collected, especially under pressure. It was one of the reasons she hired him. This was different for him.

“It’s fine. We don’t have to—”

“It’s you, dammit,” he interrupted.

“Me?” She was confused, racking her brain, trying to figure out what she did that caused this man so much distress. All she could do was wait it out and hoped he would come clean.

Evan put down his drink and stood, paced, and ran a hand through his thick locks. Olivia waited patiently, but her stomach turned, hiding how upset she was that she made him so upset. She tried to be a good boss, to make her people happy. Apparently, she failed her V.P. It hurt. Olivia worked so hard and sacrificed so much. Not to mention all those fantasies of Evan went right out the window. She hoped he wasn’t here to quit as tears threatened to pool in her eyes. She hated that out-of-control feeling that crying caused. She felt it made her appear weak in front of others, especially men. It was one reason she was so good at compartmentalizing. It took years of practice.

Instead of handing her his resignation as she expected he walked around her desk and kneeled in front of her. A shaking hand hovered over her bare knee. It was so close she could feel the heat of it. _What is going on? Why is he kneeling like that?_

“I… I haven’t been able to get you out of my mind since that night we danced,” he finally admitted.

“What?” It was a stupid question. She felt the same way, but the scene playing out before her didn’t feel real, so her normally quick mind went blank. Here she was thinking he was going to leave the company and now he was confessing his feelings for her.

Evan looked up at her as he pressed his hand to her knee. She didn’t flinch, which must have been a sign of encouragement as it ran up her thigh, but stopped just below the hemline of her pencil skirt. “I always found you beautiful and brilliant, but we work together, never doing anything about it. But that dance, holding you so close… I haven’t been able to think of much else.”

Neither had she. 

“Do you… do you think you and I are possible? I have to know. If we are not, I understand and I will leave you alone, never to mention it again. I will be the consummate professional. But if we are…” He left the last sentence hanging, waiting for her reply, rubbing a thumb on her smooth thigh which sent shivers through her.

Olivia ran through a list of reasons why this wasn’t a good idea, but she could only come up with one—they worked together, but it was a big one. If they didn’t work out, could they be mature enough to accept the outcome and still work together? It was a risk. A huge risk. But maybe it was perfect. She pushed away men right out of her life, not wanting to face their lack of understanding of why she worked so hard and such long hours. She got tired of the complaints. But Evan got it—understood it. Evan was the same way. 

Then the smile spread across her face, decision made, and started to laugh at her own stupidity. She had been so long without a lover or a relationship, she missed all the signs he gave her that night, thinking it was just a simple dance. 

“You laugh,” he said, voice flat in disappointment. He removed his hand, but not before she grabbed it, putting it back.

“I laugh at the irony, Evan. I feel the exact same way as you. I haven’t been able to get you out of my mind since we danced and I have been worried about it, like you.”

Hope set back into those hazel-green eyes of his, then brows furrowed as he looked down at her thigh where his hand rested. Despite his agitation, he was as bold with his hand as he was in business. To have his strong hands take control of her body as she fantasized so many times made her wet at the thought. But his hand didn’t move up her thigh as she expected. It moved down to her barefoot.

“I think about touching you every night. Let’s be honest, I think about you all the time, grateful for the busy work to distract me from you,” he breathed.

Her heart and stomach fluttered simultaneously with his admission, wanting to make her own confession. “I had a dream about you the other night.”

Evan looked up, his smile quirked, eyes narrowing and full of mischief. It was a side rarely seen by him, ever the professional. “Oh? Was it a naughty dream?”

Olivia giggled. She actually giggled. She never giggles. “It was.”

He rested the heel of her foot on his thigh, massaging it. Then grabbed her other foot, massaging that one too. 

“If this is how it is to be between us, then you are welcome into my private time any day,” she quipped, rolling her head back in her leather chair, enjoying his touches. No man had ever rubbed her tired feet before. It was the most soothing thing. Her body relaxed as the pressures of the day washed away with his touches. It sure beat having a pedicure.

“Tell me,” he said as he massaged up her leg with his long and strong fingers, digging into knots she didn’t know she had. 

“About the dream?”

Evan’s eyes glinted in lust. “Tell me about what brought about the dream.”

Olivia blushed, remembering clearly what she fantasized about that night. She knew it was the reason behind her dream, growing wet just thinking about it. “It’s embarrassing,” she said, chuckling.

“It can’t be any more embarrassing than what I think about. I want to know. Tell me,” he said as his hands slowly trailed up her thighs, slipping beneath her skirt, but not touching her core, which was on fire at her fantasies and his touches. It burned her with arousal, yet she relaxed, growing comfortable. He had remarkable hands. It was a shame she didn't notice before.

On instinct, she spread her legs for him in invitation, catching her breath as his hands drew near. They hadn’t done anything yet and her panties were soaked. The smell of her sex was heady. Fuck, she wanted him to take her right then and there, but she had to tell her story. Olivia wanted him to know her every desire.

“I am here with you not unlike how we are now,” she continued. “It’s been a rough day. A long day. You crash into my office, flooded with desire and want for me. I want you too.”

Olivia took a shuddered breath as a thumb grazed her wet clit through her panties. “Go on.” His voice had grown deep with lust, nearly a growl.

“We are heated, panting as we strip my clothes off while you remain dressed. Everyone had gone home for the day and it is only you and I, and the world below us. Our kiss is deep, passionate. I feel your tongue in my mouth. It makes me groan. I waited so long for the kiss and to finally have your lips against mine, I melt into you.”

A finger slips in her soaked undergarment and into her hot and wet folds. Olivia spread for him, her hands gripping the armrests of her chair. A moan escaped her lips as her heart raced. To be like this with Evan, after all, her fantasies were surreal in a way, but it almost felt like home, like they had been lovers for years.

“Keep going,” he whispered.

“Uhm, you… ah, flip my body around and shove me… ah, against that window. My breasts are pressed against the glass as you finger me from behind. You… ah.” She struggled to tell her story as he pulled off her panties, their wetness sticking to her skin as they slid down. Her eyes were closed, but she felt him push up her skirt. Her breath hitched when she felt his warm breath on her pussy. Olivia slid down further in her chair, opening herself further to him.

“Don’t stop,” he ordered, his face so close to her core. Evan lifted her legs and tossed them over his shoulder, kissing her inner thighs.

“Oh… ah, you… you want me. I am pressed against the glass and I can hear you removing your belt and unzipping your pants. I look to the outside world below us, wondering if anyone can see my naked body, but I don’t care if the world sees as I… ah, I burn for you. You could do anything to me at that point. I am under your will, your power, your control.” 

Olivia’s breathing picked up and goosebumps formed over her body from the desire as Evan ran his tongue through her wet folds. Her fingers reached for his head, curling in his wavy locks. His hair was softer than it looked and she never wanted to let go as he dug deeper into her. She could feel her wetness dripping down to her ass, soaking through her skirt. When he teasingly grazed her clit, she groaned. Fuck, it had been too long, she could scarcely think straight. It was hard to tell her story while he was sucking on her.

“Don’t stop or I will.”

“No, don’t stop,” she breathed, almost begging.

“Keep talking then.

“You… ah, lower yourself and plunge into my wetness, not waiting to see if we fit or not. I don’t know what your cock looks like, but we fit well, my wet cunt allowing you to enter without resistance.” His groans at her words rewarded her and kept her talking though it was difficult as she was getting closer. “You fuck me hard against the glass and I try to cling to the smooth surface, but ah… I can’t. The only thing holding me up is… you as you pound into me. I… I laugh because I wonder what the cleaning crew will think about seeing my body prints on the window. The thought makes me come as you explode… ah…”

The orgasm tore through her body, her swollen nether lips throbbing, pulsing. He forced her cunt deeper into his devouring mouth as she cried out in her pleasure. What really happened was even better than her fantasies. Her heart felt like it was going to implode as her mind grew weak in her sexual fog.

“Shit. That was fucking hot, Olivia,” he whispered as he came up for air pulling her down for a kiss, straddling his lap.

Olivia could taste herself on his lips and it was heady. She liked it. “That was… you are good with your ah, tongue. That was better than any of my fantasies.”

Evan stood and pulled Olivia upright, unbuttoning her blouse as if it was something he had done a thousand times before, then he pulled down her skirt as she stepped out of it. When she reached for him to undo his tie, he grabbed her hands in a tight gasp, shaking his head. Then, with speed, his hand raced to her head and yanked her head back by her hair and shoved her body against the glass. 

“Stay,” he ordered and unclasped her bra, pulling it off. Now she was naked for the world below to see, just like her fantasy. 

“I want to see you,” she said. “I want to suck you.”

“And you will. This first,” he said in her neck. His warm breath sent shivers down her arm. She thought she was just telling him her fantasy. She wasn’t expecting Evan to fulfill it. Olivia was reluctant at first, but his touches eased her, closing her eyes to the outside world, the cold glass warming up to her body temperature.

Instead of pressing her against the glass, he bent her over, forcing her hands to brace herself against the glass. She looked up and could see his reflection as he pulled out his cock, his face set in determination and lust. Being bent over for him was even better than in her fantasy. 

Evan slid into her with little effort despite his size. He was either large or she was tight from a lack of use, but she felt stretched and full with him. Yes, they fit well together. His pumping was slow and purposeful as he got his rhythm, but soon was moving faster, deeper.

“This is better than one of my own fantasies. You are so tight, so wet,” he said, already panting for breath, his voice hoarse with lust.

“Tell me,” she ordered.

Her V.P. told her how she would seduce him in his office during lunch, closing the door behind her, but not locking it. The risk was someone could walk in as they fucked. Olivia would strip before him, and he would be shocked, but turned on, his cock hard for her. She would get on her knees and pull out his cock, sucking him behind his desk. He had to remain quiet so no one would hear…

Evan couldn’t finish as he pulled out and spilled all over her ass and back. “Stay there,” he croaked and found some tissues to clean her up.

When he finished, he pulled her upright and into an embrace. “I haven’t even kissed you yet.”

“And I haven’t even seen you naked yet,” she replied, a smile on her face as he pressed his lips to hers, grasping a breast with one hand and grazed his thumb over her nipple. 

“I can’t tell you how relieved I am that you feel the same. You are the only one I know who knows what it’s like to work as hard as we do and find someone to care about. You are special, Olivia. I have always known that, but even more so now,” he said, brushing away some of her stray hairs.

“I was thinking the same thing when you walked into my office tonight,” she said, wrapping her arms around him, pressing her head to his chest. 

“Spend tonight with me and tomorrow. We can celebrate Thanksgiving with some takeout and lovemaking.”

“That sounds like the most perfect Thanksgiving ever.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments are always welcome and appreciated. If you want a pairing or give a prompt, leave a comment.


	28. The President

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Per request, from solstice_sweetheart, who wanted to get Evan's viewpoint from the previous story called V.P. This is just a continuation of their story, but from the V.P.'s eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This an original piece

Why was he so nervous now? Things were pleasantly unexpected in her office earlier that night. He finally admitted his feelings for Olivia and to his surprise, she wanted him too. He _knew_ that there was chemistry after they danced that night. It was electric. They never touched before, but they worked together for three years. When they danced, he could sense the energy between them and hoped she noticed it too. She did.

He always found her brilliant and beautiful. But she was like him—so little time for anything romantic like love. Running a business took too much of their time. They not only worked together, but she was the boss and he was her V.P. While it could cause complications between them if things didn’t work, he was confident she understood him and it would be lasting.

He looked over at her as he drove the car back to his place after they had a bite to eat for dinner. She was holding his hand, a small smile on her lips as she looked out the window. Her long blonde hair was no longer up as she normally kept it. It trailed down her shoulders and back. He wished he could see her green eyes, but it was dark out. 

Olivia looked so at ease. Of course, she would be after he went down on her and fucked her in her office. She told him her fantasy of him in delicious detail as he sucked her. It was the sexiest thing he had ever done with a woman. He only intended to tell her what was on his mind, but one thing led to another. It surprised him how sensual she was. Perhaps it was being alone for so long, leaving one stranded with nothing but fantasies. 

Now they headed to his house to finish what they started. _No, not finish. Continue._ He hoped they would never finish. 

Evan invited her back to his place for the night, and they planned to spend Thanksgiving together the next day. She had no parents, so she was alone, and his family was overseas on vacation. It was only going to be the two of them for the holiday. He was a skilled cook, but he didn’t expect her to come over, so he wasn’t prepared. Carryout was in store for them tomorrow, and hopefully more lovemaking.

After the heat died down between them and he took her home—his boss—he grew anxious. He worried if his place was good enough, if he could keep pleasing her, would they work out, what if it didn’t? All these questions ran through his head, not that he was about to change his mind. But all that washed away when she turned to look at him, her eyes hooded from being tired and a sweet smile on her face as she squeezed his hand. It was as if she sensed his worry and wanted to reassure him. Evan breathed a sigh of relief as he drove. 

They walked into his home and he watched Olivia walk around, exploring. His house said a lot about him, and he loved that she was taking it all in. The furniture was full of warm neutrals, but he took care, picking out specific pieces of art to adorn the walls, adding a splash of color. 

“I like your place,” she said.

“Thanks. As you know, neither of us is home much, but I wanted a place I could be comfortable in after a stressful day.”

“I’m the same. Yours is more modern than mine, but I like it. You have great taste in art.”

Evan smiled, watching her and her figure when she wasn’t looking. He burst out a laugh when Bob came up to greet her, wrapping his fluffy orange fur around her, his tail hooking around her leg calf. The cat was marking his territory already. _My cat seems to like her as much as I do._

“Oh, who is this little guy?” she asked, scooping up his cat into her arms. He curled up into her, completely at ease to her petting. 

“That’s Bob. My best dude. Cats are great when you want a pet, but don’t have the time for a dog.”

“Well, aren’t you a cute thing, Mr. Bob.”

“Want a glass of wine?”

“Sure, thanks,” she said, putting Bob down.

He walked over to her where she was standing looking at one of his paintings, handing her a glass of wine, and turned on the gas fireplace. _There, that’s more romantic_. Evan was nervous again, and he couldn’t figure out why. He was so confident in her office before. That wasn’t true. He was confident after she confirmed her feelings, then everything fell into place. But having his boss in his home left him uncertain. His stomach twisted and turned, heart beat faster as he watched her sip her wine, looking at the fire. _Fuck, she’s beautiful_.

Olivia took another long sip of her wine, then stood closer to him, leaning her chest into his, looking up. He laughed under his breath about his pointless nerves and flutters. 

“What’s funny?” she asked, smiling up at him.

Evan wrapped his free arm around her waist and gave her a small kiss. “Me. I’m just being an idiot.”

“I never equate my V.P. with being an idiot.”

“I’m just…”

“Just what? Come on now. We fucked in my office, Evan. I told you my deepest fantasy of you.”

He nodded and blew out a sigh, holding her tighter against him. “You’re right. I’m just nervous now like I was when I confessed how I felt for you and I don’t know why.”

“I am nervous too, Evan,” she said, resting a gentle hand on his face. “I would because it’s been awhile since I’ve been with a man being so busy. And you’re not just any man. You’re my V.P. It’s reasonable to have doubts and concerns. But I want to do this. I want to be with you.”

He bent down and kissed her again, feeling his confidence return with her words. He knew she would understand. They had so much in common. “Thank you for saying that. I want to be with you too.”

Olivia plucked his glass out of his hand and set both of their drinks on the table, then returned her attention to him. Her hands slid up his chest with agonizing slowness until she reached his loosened tie. He watched her intent face as she untied it and pulled it off. Next came his suit jacket, draping it neatly on a chair. Her eyes looked up, reaching for his as she took her time unbuttoning his dress shirt, slipping it off his arms. The roles were reversed. He was the one getting naked before and she was still dressed.

Her fingers raked through his chest hair, enjoying her manicured nails graze his skin. He closed his eyes to her touches, his hands gripping her hips. As her fingers explored his flesh, they moved down towards his trousers, unbuckling them. Evan used his toes to slip off each dress shoe as his pants pooled around his ankles. 

Now it was Olivia’s turn to be on her knees before him and pulled off his dress socks. Then, fingers were on the elastic edge of his boxers. His breath hitched as she pulled them down; his cock popped up as if in greeting to her. It was surreal to have his boss before him, facing his hardness. He wondered, hoped he could get past the boss thing. Evan was confident he would, but the thought turned him on too. The president of the company was kneeling before him as if in deference to his cock. It twitched at the thought.

“It’s your turn,” she said.

“My turn?”

“Tell me about your fantasy.”

“I told you earlier tonight.”

“No, not good enough. It was too fast. I want it in excruciating detail. I did it and I expect no less from my V.P.,” she said, eyes full of mischief as she looked up at him. 

His cock was hovering near her face and the visual was intoxicating. Then she grazed a finger up and down his hardness. “So soft,” she whispered. “You won’t get more than this if you don’t tell me. I want to hear what I do to you in your office. Or you can tell me a new one.”

Evan moaned as she grabbed his cock at the base, hovering her lips so close he could feel a kiss of warm breath. His hands slipped into her blonde hair, tangling his fingers in it. It was silky, and he wanted to run his hands through it all night. 

“We are in this room one night, next to the fire. It’s warm on our skin from the winter chill. We are already naked,” he started after clearing his throat. 

“I like it already,” she said, then pressed gentle kisses along his shaft. 

A need and hunger for her mouth wrapped around him grew the more she teased. When he leaked the pre-cum off his tip, she licked it off and he shuddered almost spilling right then. Evan took a deep breath to calm himself, blew it out slowly, and finished his story.

“You are sucking me as you are now. Ah… my hands fisted in your hair as I, uhm, shove myself in your mouth. You gag and the tightness in your throat, the constriction has me wanting to come, but I hold back, saving my, ah, cock for your… ah fuck—” he hissed, as she swallowed him. He watched her as she pulled him out and ran her tongue up and down his cock in tantalizing slowness, unable to peel his eyes away.

“I can torture you as much as you tortured me if you don’t finish,” she said, looking up at him.

Evan breathed out a nervous laugh. It was different when the tables turned. She was the one in control now. Olivia held the power and slipped him back into her warm mouth. “I want to be inside you, but you play coy and naughty. You run from me, laughing… god. Ah… your pretty ass and tits bounce and I love watching you being so playful. So, I, uhm, chase you… shit.” The warmth was spreading through his body and in between his legs as goosebumps from lust sprinkled on his skin. The pressure was building, and he wanted to slow it down, savor her tongue and mouth. Plus, he wanted to fuck her again; have her wrapped tightly around him.

Olivia didn’t have to say anything as she looked up at him. He knew what she wanted. The desire for her mouth was torturous. When he played this game with her earlier, he didn’t understand how powerful it was, and hearing her words just added to it. Now the tables have turned, and he was in her shoes. He loved every second of it. There was no going back after tonight, and he didn’t want to.

“I run after you,” he continued, his voice growing hoarse as he struggled not to come yet, but his body shuddered when her tongue ran over his tip again, then suckled it. “Ah, shit… I catch you and throw you over my shoulder and carry you to the couch, flinging you over the armrest. Uhm, you laugh and pretend to fight me and beg me to stop because you, ah, know what’s coming.”

“What is coming, Evan?” she whispered when he paused too long.

“The first smack on your ass has you, ah, yelping. The skin turns red, but I am far from done. Then another and another. You wreath, pretending to get away. You get another smack for your efforts. By now your ass is red and my hand stings, but I rub it… ah, god. Kiss it. You move, not to get away, but because you want more. You want to be bad and get… punished. Shit, your mouth is...”

“Is that what you like?” Olivia asked in earnest.

“Yes,” he sighed, feeling himself so close to the edge. “But it’s for you rather than me. You have the power, the power to relinquish to me. You… ah, are always in… charge and want… someone else to take over. Please stop. I… I don’t want to come yet.”

Evan lifted her to his arms and pressed his lips to hers. She grasped his face as their tongues explored in each other’s mouths. Then she pushed him away with a glint in her eyes. She was up to something, but he didn’t know what.

His erection stood painfully hard, yearning for her as he watched her get undressed. Everything she did tonight was with agonizing slowness, tempting him with each movement, each touch. His eyes never left her.

As soon as she was naked, he moved toward her and grasped her hair in his hand as his free hand explored the depths between her legs. He had to know. He needed to know if his story turned her on as much as it did him while she was sucking him. She was soaked. Evan still could barely grasp his fortune that she wanted him as much as he wanted her.

Olivia’s eyes closed to his touch, head leaning back, lips parted. Then she looked at him, a playfulness in her green eyes, glinting in the firelight. What was she up to?

“If you want me, you have to catch me first,” she said and ran. 

Evan stood stunned for a second, but only a second before he laughed and chased after her. They remained at an impasse for a moment in the kitchen. Each was on either side of the kitchen island. Olivia was fast, but he was faster. He caught her before she reached the stairs and flung her over his shoulder just as he described in his story. She kicked and laughed, insisting on being put down.

He put her down alright; down right over the back of his couch. Her face fell into the cushions, legs flailing, ass in the air. What a sight she was. He brought her fantasy to a reality and now she was giving him his. With one hand, he rubbed his hand over a cheek and fingered her wetness with the other. Olivia settled down to his touches, no longer squirming. He could hear muffled moans coming from her.

The smack came out of nowhere and resonated through the room along with her yelp. Already a handprint formed on her unmarked, smooth skin of her ass. He gave her four more smacks. She liked it as she grew wetter. It was what he wanted. 

“Are you going to behave?” he asked. 

“No,” she said defiantly. 

Evan smiled, pleased that she wanted more, pleased that she enjoyed it. This time he didn’t hold back and smacked her hard. She cried out, then moaned in pleasure when he kissed her sore bottom.

“Do you want me to fuck you?”

“Please,” she begged.

“Say it,” he ordered.

“Fuck me, please, Evan.”

It may have been tormenting her, but it was grueling for him to hold back. He plunged into her with a sigh, hands fisting the flesh of her red ass. It would not take him long, so he had to distract himself, but he wanted to give her pleasure too. As he thrust, he reached around her leg and rubbed her clit. Another moan escaped her, spreading her legs more for him. 

She was so wet under his fingers, feeling the bead of nerves swell and pop out as she exploded. The pulsing and tightening around his cock left him no choice but to come. Like last time, he pulled out and exploded on her back. 

“Stay there,” he said, as he went to find a rag to clean her up. But he didn’t rush back. A smile graced his face seeing her ass in the air, legs dangling, come on her back. She was quite the sight, so much so, he almost hardened again. 

“Any day now,” she said.

Evan laughed and cleaned her up. When she stood, she wobbled on weak legs. He knew the feeling all too well. He held her close, enjoying her naked body pressed up against his. When he tucked the hair away from her face, he kissed her forehead, then her lips. 

“Next time, I want to take it slow and explore every inch of you,” he whispered.

“We have all the time in the world. I’m not going anywhere.”

He kissed her again and pulled her on the rug by the fire to hold her. Olivia was the first woman since he could remember that he wanted to spend forever with. She was a woman he could fall in love with.

“Why didn’t we realize we matched so well earlier on?” she asked.

“I wish I could answer that. If our employees didn’t force us to go out and celebrate, we may not have. Perhaps we should thank them.”

“What does one do for employees who help their bosses have sex? Gift baskets?” she quipped.

Evan laughed. “I think happy employers means happy employees.”

“You have a point.”

“Thank god we don’t have to work tomorrow because I plan on ravishing your body all day, only taking a break to eat.”

“That sounds like a grand plan, Mr. V.P.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, and leave a comment if you enjoyed it! <3


	29. The Younger Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maya is a recently divorced 35-year-old back into the dating game. Her newest adventures involve online dating. She hates it. She's not looking for a relationship, but something to get her out of the house and have some fun. Tristan contacts her online and wants to meet. While he seems great and a lot of fun, but there's one problem. He's only 21-years-old and Maya struggles with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are two chapters posted today. This one and the next.
> 
> This is an original story. I will get back to the fandom world soon :). Just trying to get these stories out of my head and written down.

__

_Dating again sucks_ , I think as I sit at the bar and wait on my date. It’s strange being single again after all these years and I had gone so long without sex. I didn’t want it while married to my ex. He was such a fucking asshole. Who wanted to fuck an asshole, anyway? Not me. Now I craved it. It was like a switch turned on in my mind and in between my legs after I left him. Apparently, it was a common phenomenon for those who divorced or broke up after spending years together.

Sex was all I could think about, that, and how lonely I was. Yeah, I know it wasn’t the best idea to find someone when one is lonely, but I wasn’t looking for anything serious, anyway. I’ve been divorced only a few months, and the last thing I needed was another commitment. I needed to be on my own, alone for a while.

I missed the days where I could just go to a bar with friends and pick up a guy. Sometimes it was for a fling; sometimes it turned into something more. Now that I was older and divorced, I lost friends along the way. Most of my friends were married with families of their own or were my ex-husbands. They were still his friends and no longer mine. It was fine. I didn’t want to deal with it and my ex-husband, anyway. I just wanted to move on with my life. 

So, a friend of mine suggested I try online dating. _Just go out and get laid_ , she said. Online dating sucks too. Honestly, it’s the worst. It was a relatively new thing, but it was taking off. This was my third online date. The other men were uninteresting. One I slept with, but he was boring at it. At least they matched their profiles. It could have been worse after the horror stories I read. 

I was especially nervous about this date. I wasn’t interested when he first contacted me online. He was young—too fucking young. I was 35, and he was only 21. Fuck, he was gorgeous though, judging by his profile pictures. I looked good for my age and divorce did wonders for my body, losing tons of weight. I know I looked good, and I felt good. But 21? I told him no at first. That wasn’t right. I told him no three times. He was as pushy as my ex, except he was kinder about it. It wasn’t the creepy sort of pushy. He wasn’t obnoxious, so I gave him a chance.

I decided against ordering a red wine, which I normally prefer, but I already felt too old. Grownups drink red wine. So I ordered a good beer. The place was nice too. It was a new bar that opened up downtown. I arrived early because I showed early to everything. It was almost an obsession of mine. The place was crowded as I looked around, hoping no one took pity on the single woman sitting alone. I would have felt like an idiot being alone, but I was waiting on someone, confident he would show after all his persistence. 

Nervousness hit me as the time of his arrival neared. I ordered a quick shot of vodka with lemon to ease myself. The burn of the alcohol helped bring me back to reality. 

Someone soon sat next to me and I looked over noticing a young man, handsome, dark hair, dark eyes. Fucking tall. It was him, and he had a kind smile on his face.

“You must be Maya,” he said, holding out his hand for me to shake.

I give him a big smile and take it. “And you must be Tristan.”

“You look even better in person than your pictures.”

“Well, I’m not the most photogenic person. I’m always making weird faces when people take pictures of me,” I quipped, chuckling, feeling like I was rambling, not returning the compliment because of my nervousness.

Tristan laughed, putting me at ease. He had a pleasant smile and a great fucking body. I mentioned he was really tall, right?

“Can I get you a drink?” I ask him. It was the 21st century. I could buy a guy a drink.

“Sure. I’ll take a beer.”

The alcohol put me at ease, so I talked a bit easier. We have a standard conversation that involves getting to know someone. What do you do for a living? Where did you grow up? Blah blah blah. But I couldn’t deny how young he looked compared to me. I normally didn’t care about images and what people thought of me, but I was fourteen years his senior. _What the hell am I doing here? Why did I let him talk me into this?_

“Fuck,” I whispered.

“What? Are you okay?” he asked, placing a hand on my back. Why did he have to be so nice too?

“Look, I’m gonna be honest… well, I already told you this before, but I just feel so weird with your age. Even more so now that we are in public. People are looking at us.” My head dropped as if in hiding, eyeing up at him.

Tristan looked around, then turned to smile at me. “So what? Age is just a number.”

It was such a clichéd line, but it looked as if he truly believed that. “Tell that to the people staring,” I said, laughing under my breath.

He smiled again and put a hand over mine. He put me at ease with so little effort. It was probably why I agreed to this date in the first place. When we talked online, we both decided it wouldn’t be anything serious. I told him I wasn’t ready for that. I just needed to get out and have some fun. Most men were eager for that sort of lack of commitment.

“It’s not like we are getting married or anything. We are just two people who needed to get out and have a good time. By the end of the night, if you’re still uncomfortable, I won’t push you. But I would like to take you home after.”

How did someone so young learn to be understanding, yet so straightforward? The young man just oozed confidence. It was so rare in someone so young. It took me years to get confident, and even then I struggled once in a while. _Like now_. He was just a constant reminder of how old I was.

“Let’s go now,” I said before I could change my mind. It wasn’t unusual for me to take a man to bed, but usually, I spent more time getting to know them. “I just want to get away from the prying eyes.”

His smile was broad, and it lit up his face. “I don’t live too far from here. Do you want me to drive us or do you want to follow?”

“I’ll follow,” I said. I didn’t like leaving my car behind. It was my safety net in case I needed to leave in a hurry.

We stood, and he held out his hand to me with that damned charming smile of his. I couldn’t help but smile back and I grabbed it. It was as if he wanted to hold my hand to show the rest of the world, and me, that the age thing was irrelevant, daring anyone to challenge him. I adored him for it rather than be embarrassed.

As we walked through the bar, it felt as if all eyes were on us. I tried to tell myself it was because he was a monster in height, dwarfing me, and I wasn’t exactly short either. He must have been at least six-foot six-inches tall.

Tristan walked me to my car, and I drove him to his car, then I followed him to his apartment a few miles away. It was a small place, but it was clean and neat. Another surprise for someone so young. Maybe he planned to have me over and made sure it was clean for me, but everything was in its place. Shelves were decorated with tons of books. He liked to read too. Interesting. He never mentioned that in his profile. That was an added bonus.

He left me to look through his books as he lit several candles, giving the sitting room a warm and inviting glow. He wanted to set the mood; I supposed. I wasn’t the romantic type, but I always appreciated the gesture when men tried. I never asked for it. Then he left and returned with a glass of white wine for me. Another surprise.

“Are you sure you’re only 21?” I asked, laughing.

“Why do you ask?”

“You don’t act like your age.”

“I’ve been told I’m an old soul.”

I smiled up at him and nodded. “I can see that,” I said, taking a big gulp of wine.

“You’re still nervous,” he said. It wasn’t a question, but an observation. I guess it was more obvious than I thought.

“Yeah, a little.”

I don’t know why, but I sat on the floor instead of his sofa, taking off my heels. It was wood, not carpet. I wondered if he had money or his parents did. His place looked too nice, but I didn’t ask. I leaned my back against his couch and he sat on the floor with me, but across, facing me. It was probably for my comfort, giving me space until I calmed the fuck down about the age thing. 

We talked for a while and laughed as I grew more comfortable around him. Well, more accepting of his age. It was just sex, right? I wouldn’t become attached to him, and at least he was an adult of legal age. I knew myself too well. At least he wasn’t pushy. Persistent in meeting me, but not so when it came to sex. Tristan seemed perfectly content just talking and laughing. I liked him that much more for it.

“You’re very beautiful, Maya,” he finally said, bringing us back to why we met in the first place.

“For my age, you mean.” I winced. I didn’t mean to say that, but I couldn’t help it. That lingering one issue I just couldn’t let go of. Yet, I was still there, in his apartment, knowing we were going to sleep together. “Sorry,” I said.

“Don’t worry about it. I get it.”

“You don’t seem bothered by how much older I am than you.”

“I’m not at all. It’s just sex, Maya.”

I sighed and raised my wineglass in salute. “You know, you’re right. I need to get past this. Thank you for being so patient with me. I’m still getting used to this dating thing.”

Another beautiful smile, but he said nothing as he grabbed my foot, rubbing it. It was a pleasant change; I had to admit. Why did the older men seem more immature than this young, and a thoughtful man? It was the primary reason I hadn’t left yet. If only he were a bit older, dammit. I may have considered more with him.

The foot massage was his sign that he wanted to get the show on the road and it put me completely at ease. His hands soon moved up my skirt, touching my smooth, shaved legs. It was more relaxing than the sweet wine I was drinking.

Tristan put my foot down and scooted to sit next to me, then ran a gentle hand along my face and chin, pulling me towards his lips. They were as soft as they looked. I pushed all thoughts of age deep in the recesses of my mind and focused solely on his mouth, imagining them kissing my body and between my legs. 

I put down my glass so my hands could be busy feeling his body through his shirt. He was rock hard. Of course, he was. He was perfect in every way but age. 

Our kiss deepened, tongues caressing each other. I loved to kiss and missed it so much. I couldn’t remember the last time I was kissed before I started dating again. My husband barely did after we were married. Everything went downhill after marriage. I pushed my ex out of my head. _It was over, let’s not dwell on the past_ , I chided myself, trying to enjoy Tristan’s lips and tongue.

My head leaned back on the couch cushion as he planted kisses on my neck. His hand moved up my body and cupped a breast. I always hated my breasts. They were too large. But I loved when men touched them, licked them, nibbled them. I enjoyed the attention they got despite loathing them. 

Tristan lifted his head to look at me as he unbuttoned my blouse as if asking if it was fine to do so. My hand lifted and wrapped around his neck, sliding up to his hair in response. It gave him the green light to push forward. So he stood, pulling me up with him, sliding my blouse off. 

Before he could remove my bra, I gently pushed him back and pulled off his top, revealing the expected muscular body. I knew he would be muscular, but I had no idea. He looked delicious, making me wish I worked out too. I had a decent body and thin enough, but it wasn’t perfect like his. He didn’t seem to care though as he ran his hands across my skin, pulling me close. I had to stand on my toes just to reach his lips, though he had to meet me part way.

His large hands slid up my back and unclasped my bra with precision. _Young, but experienced_ , I thought. He swept away all worries with his kisses and touches. And all I could think about was wanting him, my body responding to his. My panties grew wet as his lips caressed my shoulder. 

My hands moved to his jeans. I hated undoing jeans. The buttons were always too tight, but I managed. As I pulled them down, they took the boxers with them, revealing a gorgeous cock. Before I could reach for it, he bent down and slipped his pants and underwear off completely. When he stood upright, I kneeled in front of him, reaching out for his hardness. I wanted to suck on it so much. 

I never used to like cock at all. But I was never this in lust before either, since my divorce. And Tristan’s cock was beautiful. Long, thick, hard, and smooth. I was hungry for it—hungry for him in his gorgeous body. A man like him was never interested in a girl like me. I was pretty enough, but I never attracted men like Tristan. Perhaps because it was only about sex. It didn’t make me feel insecure, though. I was fine with my body, breasts notwithstanding.

I cupped his soft balls, bouncing and gripping them gently as he leaked pre-cum. I licked it off, and he hissed at the sensation. 

“Look at me,” he said.

I looked up, and he took a finger to pry my mouth open and gripped my hair with his other hand. When it opened, he slid his cock in as my lips tightened around him. He groaned. It was my first experience with a man pulling on my hair with force, so opposite of the man he was earlier. I liked it. My ex-husband was just an ‘in and out’ kind of lover. A selfish lover.

He was too large for my mouth, but I did the best I could. Even at 35, I was still learning to suck cock well because I never used to enjoy it, so I never tried that hard. Now all I could think about was wanting him to spill down my throat. I grabbed the base of him tighter as I moved him in and out of my mouth, using my tongue for extra friction. He was gagging me and I was drooling, but I liked it as his hand tightened and tangled in my hair, forcing my head to move faster, fucking my face.

“Stop,” he blurted, pulling his cock out of my mouth. “I don’t want to come yet.”

Tristan pulled me up and kissed me. I was sure my full lips were a wreck, but he didn’t seem to mind. His kiss was heated and deep, his tongue forceful. He stopped kissing me and moved me to the couch, laying me down, then removed my skirt and panties. 

Instead of lying on top of me to finish what we started, he stood and just stared. I almost used my hands to cover up my private parts, but I held myself still. I just wasn’t used to men staring at my nakedness. He wasn’t staring. He was appreciating. At least it seemed that way. 

Without a word, he climbed on the couch and spread my legs. Instead of thrusting in me, he kissed down my body with tantalizing slowness. Then came one of my favorite parts of sex—a tongue on my clit. My back arched into his awaiting mouth as my fingers tangled in his dark and thick hair. I wasn’t a loud lover. I didn’t groan or moan. It left men wondering sometimes if they were pleasing me, but my body should have said it all. I didn’t like the distractions forced noises made, wanting to focus on every touch, every lick, every breath. 

Goosebumps trailed across my body as he inserted fingers into me, thrusting as he licked. I spread my legs, opening myself wholly to him and his mouth. It was a torment between need and being uncomfortable. My need won out. Fingers left me in want as he used them to spread my folds back, digging his tongue deeper before focusing on my clit. I wanted to come. My body was screaming for it, wanting him to focus now. I needed to explode. The pressure was getting too much, and I was throbbing. He must have sensed it as he sucked on my bud, using the tip of his tongue to swirl around the nerves instead of the flat part of his tongue. I liked it that way best. How did he know?

It came in a rush, throwing back my head, arching into his mouth. My hands yanked at his hair, pulling him closer as I pulsed in his mouth. My heart was pounding, my mind was cloudy, my body limp. Tristan kissed his way up my body, making a pit stop at my breasts to wipe away my arousal from his mouth. I liked it when men did that instead of the crude wipe with the back of a hand. Even kissing me with my own arousal on their mouth was fine too.

Then he sat up, pulling a condom out of his wallet on the floor. Tearing it open, he slipped it on. Another plus for Tristan that he didn’t insist on having sex without one. Most men pushed, hating them. He hovered over me, arms on either side of my head, and bent down to kiss me. As soon as our lips met, he plunged into me. _Fuck!_ It hurt a little; he was so big, but soon I accommodated him. I don’t think I had a man that large in me since my early twenties. It felt so good, so tight, so deep as he thrust. 

I wish I could orgasm during sex. It would have made our union perfect, but it was as close as it was going to get. I still enjoyed him inside me as he hit so deep and that one spot that sent shivers through me. My legs wrapped around his torso, pulling him in deeper as he picked up speed. He planted his face in my neck, his fiery breath panting, making my already feverish body hotter. 

My hands reached for his ass, pulling him in. I needed more. “Faster,” I whisper, and he did as he’s told, lifting one of my legs. The angle hurt me a little, but I didn’t want him to stop. I cling to him and I could tell he was close. Not seconds later, his body shuddered and his thrusts lost their rhythm as he spilled into me. 

He pulled out, yanking off the condom, tossing it to the floor, and curled up next to me on the couch, holding me close. He smiled and looked at me, brushing away some hairs from my face. I can tell he wanted to ask me how I felt about the age thing now, but he remained silent. 

I ran my fingers across the smooth skin of his arms, wishing he were older. It was impossible, even if I wanted it to be so. Fourteen years was just too much. 

He asked me if I wanted to stay the night and I told him yes. I was too tired to drive home, and I didn’t mind a little snuggle time. I loved being held. It had been so long. I left the next morning, not wanting to linger too long. 

Tristan and I kept in touch for a while, seeing each other one more time before I pushed him away. He understood. After all, it was just sex. I just couldn’t see past his age despite him seeing past mine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I would love to hear what you think.


	30. The Commute

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She had been alone too long. Her desire was taking hold and she felt perpetually aroused. She takes a risk as she rides the train into work where she stumbled into a man who was more than happy to give in to her needs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are two chapters today. This one and the one before.
> 
> This is an original.

It’s been so long since I had a decent screw and it’s been one of those weeks I’m perpetually turned on. My toys are useful for a time, but they can never replace the pleasant, pulsing thickness of a man’s dick inside me, stuffing me with his hot cum. Or his wet and stiff tongue grazing my clit as his fingers slip in and out of my ass. I’m wreathing underneath him as he sinks deeper. I want to choke on his cock before he fucks me.

I shake the fantasies from my sleepy mind. There’s no time. I have to get to work. I climb out of bed with reluctance and debate on taking one of my vibrators to work to give myself a quickie in the restroom. I loathe being this horny when I have no one in my life. What I wouldn’t give for some morning sex right about now.

I slip on a nice blouse and a loose and swirling skirt that sits a couple of inches above the knees. It has large flowers all over it, and I wear it to celebrate Spring and the expected warm day. Next, I slip on my heels and grab my purse, but I stop before I head out the door. I decide to bring my portable vibrator with me after all. There was just something naughty about doing yourself in the restroom, so close to your boss’ office. It’s a private stall and I can lock it, so I don’t worry about anyone walking in.

As I drop it in my bag, I get a naughty thought cross my mind. The thought makes me wet, not that I’m not perpetually wet recently. Damn, I hate not having someone to fuck. I lift my skirt, yanking off my panties, and shove them in my bag. No one will know but me. There is something liberating about not wearing underwear under a skirt.

When I head out of my apartment building, I check to make sure it isn’t windy, cursing myself for not looking up the weather online, but the day is calm as I head to the metro station. It isn’t far, having only to walk a few blocks. If it were any further, I would have to wear more comfortable shoes. 

I walk down the steps, my shoes clacking on the cement until I reach the escalator. Down, down, down I go into the recesses under the city. Strangers crowd the platform, all heading to specific destinations; most going to work as I am. I wish I left earlier instead of getting caught up in my arousal issues. Now it’s overcrowded and people will squeeze into the train so tight our bodies will force us to keep upright. There will be no seat for me this morning.

Then my mind drifts to me not wearing any panties as I sense the breeze that the trains give off with their arrival and leaving. The coolness of it sends a shiver through my body and I think about some stranger, a man, pressed up against me with no idea what was underneath my skirt, or lack thereof. More wetness. I worry about it dripping down my thighs, but it’s too crowded for anyone to notice. They are busy drinking their special brews of coffee, reading the paper, or their phones. Everyone had something to do for the long ride to work. All I have are my aroused thoughts and the music playing in my earbuds.

When my train arrives, everyone scurries to be the first one in, elbowing and pushing to ensure we don’t have to wait for the next train. The people farther back are screwed. I make it in and now don’t have to worry about being late. 

My ride is often forty-five minutes with all the stops in between. I wish now I wore more comfortable shoes as I clutch the handgrip attached to the bar overhead to keep from falling as the train speeds off. I think about my skirt lifting over my thighs as I do. I listen to my music, looking around at the strange faces. Everyone is so focused on their own little world. 

At the next stop, more people get on than get off. It’s jammed with bodies and I’m getting hot already despite the air conditioning. Between the sweat and my arousal, my thighs stick together. I hate the feeling unless I’m having sex. I should have worn my damned panties. 

Not liking the song I was listening to, I press forward to the next one on my phone then look up to see the fresh faces. Standing next to me, his arm touching my shoulder, was a man. He was gorgeous, scruff on his face that was intentional rather than lazy from not shaving, with dark waves of hair I wanted to tangle my fingers in. He was texting with one hand, while holding on to the handle with the other, oblivious to my plight and need. _Please look up. I have to see your eyes_. 

I don’t recognize what is going on as my desire overtakes me. There is something about him and it’s not just his appearance. It’s like pheromones coming off of him as if he recently had sex this morning or wanted to. Perhaps he fucked his wife before heading to work, but his hand revealed no ring. Maybe a girlfriend. Whatever it was, his scent was a rush. Though it could be me. I have been overly aroused for the past several days. I could be reading too much into it. But my mind, or more likely, instincts, refuse to ignore him. His very essence calls to me. Imagine someone roping and dragging you toward them. That’s what it seemed like except you’re turned on too.

He doesn’t glance up despite me struggling to mind-meld with him. So we ride on, and with every bump, every shift of the train, I nudge my way closer and closer to him, even though we are essentially on top of each other. I need him to feel my heat—sense my arousal. I’m not sure why. What do I expect to happen, anyway? We are on a crowded train. Maybe I should just ask for his number and if he’s single, he can screw me later. But my body refuses to listen, demanding to get into this strange temptation. I want to touch him, not just accidentally bump into him.

The train comes to an abrupt stop, and jerks as I crash into him. It was hard not to with me practically fucking him with my mind standing so close. He glances up at me in surprise and concern as he wraps an arm around my waist to catch me. He asks if I’m okay and I nod like a moron, not uttering a word because I’m so absorbed in his light gray eyes with flecks of yellow. I swallow hard and nod again as if he asked something, which I’m sure he didn’t.

As the train takes off, though, he doesn’t return to whatever he was vigorously typing on his phone. He is still looking at me. Why is he staring? _Probably because you’re staring, idiot._ My heart flutters and I’m reminded of the fact that I’m wearing no panties. The fantasy of his secret touches under my skirt plays out in my mind and I grow even wetter. 

We are still staring, silent, and I observe his eyes dilate. My pussy clenches and my clit throbs at the sight. If his eyes weren’t full of lust, I don’t know what was. I enjoy seeing his pupils contract and expand. They are hypnotizing. I slip my phone in my bag to have a free hand and drop my arm by side, grazing a finger over his suit pants. It’s so subtle I am sure he doesn’t even notice, but I have to touch him. The whole thought is salacious. 

His lovely gray eyes dilate once more. He definitely notices, then immediately looks elsewhere. I’m disappointed and draw away my hand. Before it can reach for my phone in my bag, I feel it. It was soft, tentative, gentle. I peer down and notice his hand, fingers reaching towards my thigh as if testing the waters. My face flushes with lust and I don’t care who notices, but everyone is preoccupied elsewhere. It’s only him and me. He looks at me again, but it’s fleeting. 

The man moves closer to me and leans in. I can hear him inhaling deeply through his nose. Is he sniffing me? Of course, he is. I probably reek of sex, but I can’t tell as I’m too busy inhaling him. It’s heady, and it makes me a little woozy, like I had a shot of alcohol. My body becomes even hotter and my pussy clenches as if to hold myself back. A tickle spreads down my thigh and I inwardly groan, knowing I am dripping, but it sets me on fire too. This yearning for him to touch it fuels me and I look at him, eyes begging.

He adjusts his body, so he’s facing me more, but he doesn’t look at me. I want him to look me in the eyes as he touches me. My fingers reach out ever so slowly. Will he let me touch it? Will he freak out? My senses tell me no. They tell me he needs this as much as I do. So my hand pushes forward as illicit thoughts fill my brain. I feel wanton as I reach for him, my finger grazing on his dick. It’s hard. My face becomes hot again and my heart slams against my chest, worried he can hear it. His hardness is the push I need. He looks up at me, eyes wide, but grows steely, brows lowered. His expression screams hunger. _Yes!_

The train bounces again and my breasts slam into him. I could have sworn he growled, but it’s hard to tell with the noise of the train. We inhale each other like two feral animals in heat. I just now notice his fingers have moved under my skirt, grazing my thigh. He must feel my wetness dripping because I can feel it. I reach for his prick again, but his hand moves away from my leg, grabbing it, pushing it away. 

_Damn_ . But his hand returns to me. His fingers tickle and my throbbing cunt hurts with a need to surrender. My nipples are hard and chafing against the roughness of my lacy bra, but I like it. _As soon as I get to work, I’m rushing to the bathroom because this is so fucking hot._ I’m so glad now I removed my panties. 

His fingers climb, climb, climb up my skirt ever so slowly. He doesn’t want anyone to notice what he’s doing. I don’t either, but the lure of being caught has my body on fire as my stomach flutters. He finally reaches my dripping cunt, and it aches, yearning for release. It hurts, and I wonder if this is what it feels like for a guy who is hard for too long. My breath catches and I look at him. His eyes give me a glimpse of surprise that I have nothing under my skirt, then turn steely and dilate again, but now there is a crook to his mouth—a grin that only I can see as if we are sharing some riveting secret, which we are. 

The entire scene is risque and I love every minute of it, but part of my mind questions my sanity letting some strange man touch me. Is this where my desperate horniness has led me? Instead, I snatch my phone from my bag so people don’t realize what is going on and pretend to scroll through songs as he inserts a finger in my pussy. By now our faces are so close, I can feel his fiery breath on my cheek. It smells like coffee and toothpaste. It’s as intoxicating as he is. He thrusts his finger in and out of me as I struggle not to moan, biting my bottom lip to stifle any potential sounds. His fingers move to my clit and my body shudders, but I stop it so no one notices my reaction. 

“Don’t give them anything,” he whispers, uttering his first words since our bodies tangled together by accident earlier.

I know what he means. I am to not react to his pleasures. The desire to feel his throbbing and hot cock in my hand nearly has me spilling over, but he won’t let me touch him. I can hardly blame him for not wanting cum stains all over his slacks, and we couldn’t very well pull out his dick. The thought makes me laugh, yet turned on even more. I was always jealous that men could pretty much pee anywhere, and I couldn’t. Yet, they couldn’t do what I was doing right now.

I look at him, looking down at my skirt as if he could see my wet and hot cunt through the fabric. He rubs my clit faster, but he pauses when more people get off and on at the next stop. As I draw near to my own stop, I mentally beg him to hurry. My need to come is overwhelming. I look at him and hope he sees my eyes pleading. He does as he resumes his stroking. 

“Faster,” I whisper, and he complies. 

The orgasm rips through me and I nearly fall over if not for hanging on to the handle and leaning into him. I struggle to show nothing on my face or utter a word, but my eyes water in pleasure and I bite my bottom lip too hard. The shudders coursing through me are electrifying as my pussy pulses with each orgasmic wave. I want to groan into him, but I remain silent. 

He pulls out his hand and discretely slips a finger in his mouth. _Oh god. Did he just lick my juices?_ I’m turned on all over again. I scan the train to see if anyone notices, but they are still busy in their little worlds. It’s just him and me, as before. How can we be so alone on a train that is so crowded?

The next stop is mine, but I don’t want to leave. I don’t want it to be over, wanting to return the favor, but it’s impossible. 

As the train nears to a stop, I look at him, giving him a small smile that only he can see. He returns it. I want to thank him and I almost do, but I stay silent. I’m never going to see him again, anyway. 

Before I can head out the door, someone takes my arm. I glance back and see my temporary lover. He slips something in my hand and returns to his phone as I make my way off the train before the doors close. I turn as the train leaves, watching my temporary lover, not looking back, but he’s smiling. I look down and see a business card in my hand. His name and number are in fine print on the thick white paper. I grin. Perhaps I will see him again after all. I look forward to returning the favor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! I would love to know what you think.


	31. Parting is Such Sweet Sorrow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Giraud Gemane tried to avoid her. He really did. Briena was his student and he had no business being interested sexually. Not only that but was so much older than she was. But Briena sees him for so much more as he gives in to his impulses to have her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wahoo! I have a guest writer today. In return for a little character preset I did for her game, she, in turn, wrote me a little story, digging into my love for the teacher/student trope. 
> 
> Thank you [solstice_sweetheart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/solstice_sweetheart/pseuds/solstice_sweetheart) for this wonderful story!
> 
> Giraud Gemane/Female Nord OC

It was a normal night for Giraud Gemane. The Dean of History was in his office, working on the matter of King Olaf’s lost verse. He ran a hand through his dark brown hair. Something didn’t make sense. It couldn’t be possible that the lost verse was that close. He must have misread something. That or… 

There was a knock at his door.

He rubbed his forehead. He hated being disturbed, but Viarmo reminded him that students were an unfortunate necessity of the college. If only he could focus on his own research, he lamented. Very well. He would let the student in if he must.

“Come in,” he called out, schooling his voice and removing all traces of irritation. 

Briena walked in, and Giraud stopped what he was doing. The Nord woman was his finest student, and an equally skilled poet as she was a historian. Her work was always impeccable, and, much to his chagrin, finding little to complain about. The woman was as bright as she was beautiful, with fiery locks of red hair and stunning green eyes. She usually had an easy grin on her face, making her amiable to almost anyone she met—not then, though. Something dulled her brightness, but he couldn’t guess what.

“Briena? What brings you here?” he asked.

“I wanted to see you,” the Nord admitted. 

“Whatever for? It’s late.” 

“I was wondering why you didn’t show up,” she admitted, frowning.

“Show up?” Giraud repeated, confused. What was it he was supposed to show up to? Wait, why was she looking at him as if he had failed her? 

“We held the graduation this morning, remember?” Briena asked.

“Of course. I was there.” 

“But you forgot that all the professors and graduates meet up at The Winking Skeever to celebrate?”

Oh, that was what she meant. He hadn’t forgotten, not really. Giraud told himself he would go later, once he was done with the matter of the missing verse. No, that wasn’t true, he admitted to himself. He was keeping himself busy because he hadn’t wanted to attend. 

“Forgive me. I didn’t realize I’d be missed,” he said.

Those weren’t the right words. Now the Nord woman’s eyes glistened with unshed tears. He didn’t mean to hurt her, but he wasn’t sure what was so upsetting to her. Or maybe he did, he just wasn’t ready to admit it. 

“I’ll be moving out of Solitude in a few days, Professor Gemane. I wanted to be with all my peers one last time before I left, and I... I wanted to see you.” 

For all the years he trained in speechcraft, and for all of his knowledge on the refineries of court, he asked, “You did?”

“I was eager to have you there, and when you didn’t show up...” the Nord’s voice trailed off, and she laughed. It was a humorless sound. “Forgive me. It’s so silly. I don’t even know why I’m telling you this. I wanted to say goodbye and thank you for your guidance. That is all. It’s been a fine two years, professor. I hope I might one day become as accomplished as a bard as you are.”

The right thing was to thank her for her kind words and to wish her luck. The woman had a bright future ahead of her, one that extended far beyond the reach of the Bard’s College. He knew it, and he desired it for her. That was what a good professor wanted for their student—yet he found himself unable to utter any of those things. He wanted her to stay. No, she couldn’t stay. Giraud had to force himself to try. 

“I appreciate the sentiment. It’s been a pleasure being your professor. My colleagues and I have been fortunate to count you amongst our ranks. I wish you the best of luck in your future endeavors.” 

“But we... right. Thank you, professor,” she sighed. 

Before she could leave, he asked, “Is that all you came here to say?” 

She looked at him, the tears threatening to spill over at any moment. “No. There was something I wanted to discuss at The Winking Skeever. Hardly the best place, but it was better than nothing. Anyhow, it was a foolish thought.”

“Was it?” he asked. 

“I believe so,” she said, giving him a sad smile. “I should get some rest. The next few days will be busy.” 

He stood up and blocked the door, leaning on it. The Nord woman was confused, but there was an undeniable lust in her gaze. 

“I remembered tonight,” he admitted. She was ready to twist the knob to leave when he added, “I didn’t have it in me to say goodbye to you.” 

There it was, the truth that he avoided the entire night, and the reason he locked himself in his office instead of joining the others at the Winking Skeever. Briena’s eyes glimmered with hope. He owed her an explanation. Giraud stroked a finger along her jawline, his touch light. 

“I’ve pined over you for months now,” he confessed. “But I didn’t want to make a move while you were my student. I was worried that if I showed you my affections tonight, my colleagues would accuse me of being unfair in my dealings with you. Besides... I assumed you would never want to tie yourself down to an older man.”

The woman was at least in her mid-twenties, while Giraud was in his mid-forties. There were many attractive young lads who entered the college, a few who he suspected pined over Briena—at least, their sonnets suggested it. Not that he blamed them, anyway. Sometimes she wore the most delightful dresses, the sort that plunged at the breasts ever so slightly, making him fantasize about tearing off her clothes. He ignored those urges, shoving them aside, focusing on what mattered. 

“I’m not your student anymore,” she whispered. “And I happen to like older men a good deal.” 

That was all the incentive he needed to pin her against the door and capture her lips with his. Her lips were so soft and he could still taste the ale on them, making it almost as intoxicating as her. Their tongues met, both greedy and eager for more. This was everything he wanted, everything he fantasized about during the late nights in his office. 

Giraud loosened the laces of her dress as they kissed, letting it pool around her feet, leaving her only in her smalls. His hands explored her body until they settled on her firm ass. She moaned into his mouth, thrusting her hips on his aching hardness, parting her legs to give her greater access to her warmth. Her hands traveled down his chest, all the way to the bulge in his trousers. 

“What would you like me to do, professor?” she asked. 

She played coy, but she knew what he wanted. He pulled down his breeches, revealing his thick cock. Briena licked her lips as though it was the tastiest treat she could imagine, and it was the single most erotic sight he’d ever seen. She got to her knees, giving him a perfect view of her breasts. Briena licked at his tip, grazing the tip of her tongue along his slit. She kissed it, almost with reverence, before taking his member in her mouth. 

She ran her tongue slowly up towards the tip, savoring him. When she moaned, the vibrations sent shivers up his spine. It took all his restraint to keep from shoving his cock down her throat, but he didn’t need to as she took his entire length into her mouth. Giraud’s fingers laced themselves in her thick red curls. He closed his eyes, getting lost in the sensation of her warm and wet mouth working his cock as if she had done it for years. The delicious pressure built, threatening to explode at any moment. When she cupped and stroked his balls as she worked her mouth on his hardness, there was no stopping it. That familiar pressure and heat built to the point of no return. He exploded in her mouth as she swallowed every drop 

“You taste so good, Professor Gemane,” she whispered in his ear when she stood up, and his body shuddered. Briena always had a way with words. It was what drew him to her in the first place, but never did he think such a simple sentence would be enough to almost arouse his cock again. 

It was his turn to pleasure her, to make her know just how much he wanted her too. Giraud swept the papers off his desk with one fluid motion before lifting the Nord on it. She spread her legs for him, her heady scent greeting him, sex glistening with moisture. He wondered for a brief moment if this was a dream. No, this was better than that. She was gorgeous, eager for him, and he never wanted her more than he did at that moment.

“How often did you fantasize about this, Briena?” he whispered in her neck as he planted soft kisses on her skin, slipping a finger into her wet cunt.

“Every night,” she moaned.

He rewarded her groan with a second finger. Her walls were so tight, clenching around his fingers. He dreamed of having his cock inside her, squeezing him until he burst. 

“Did you know I snuck in here after lessons and pleasured myself?” she asked.

He groaned, his voice hoarse with lust as he watched her slide her fingers towards her clit, rubbing that sensitive nub. The pleasure on her face, eyes closed, lips parted as she pleasured herself made his cock hard once more.

“What... what were you thinking of?” she asked. 

He rubbed her bottom lip with his thumb, then inserted it in her mouth as she sucked it. “I thought of the way your pretty mouth would part as I fucked you, or what it would be like to have your sex in my mouth, tasting your arousal,” he answered, still pumping his fingers inside of her, watching every expression she made. 

“I want...” she panted. 

“What do you want?” 

“I need your mouth on me, professor.”

"Call me that again," he ordered.

"Professor," she breathed.

Giraud grinned as he felt himself get hard again. There was something illicit about the way she called him 'professor.’ He never thought anyone using his title would make it sound so erotic. 

“As you wish,” he said, as he slid his fingers in his mouth, tasting her. She was so sweet, like honey. He couldn’t wait to devour her, wanting to fulfill his fantasy. One that he imagined night after night.

Giraud pressed a kiss to her lips before trailing down her throat, all the way to her ample breasts. Gods, they were lovely, so soft. He brought one into his mouth, sucking at a taut nipple. As he nibbled on her breast, he rubbed a thumb over her other puckered nub. Her soft, breathy moans were music to his ears. They were better than best-recited poetry or lute. 

He pulled his lips away from her breasts, sucking and biting his way to her hot mound. Before Giraud reached her hot, wet core, he paused to nibble and kiss on the sensitive flesh of her thighs, teasing her. Not unlike how the scent of her arousal teased him, taunting. She knotted her fingers in his hair, guiding him to her and what she wanted, but would give in to her desires when he wanted.

Giraud’s fingers ran through her folds again, her moisture coating the tips of his fingers. Finally, he brought his mouth to her dripping cunt and savored her sweetness. She was exquisite, his tongue wanting to devour every last bit of her juices. He teased her entrance, fucking it with his tongue as she writhed under him, her back arching in desperation. As she pleaded for more, his fingers took over the thrusting as his tongue made its way to her bud. In moments, he had her calling out 'professor' as she pulsed around his fingers. He lapped at her until she begged for no more.

“I need you inside of me… now!” she demanded.

“Is that how you address me?” 

“Please, Professor Gemane. I need your cock inside of me.”

 _Fuck_ , he thought. 

Yet there Briena was, legs parted, face flushed, waiting for him to enter her. He wasn’t going to deny her any longer, or him. He had to have her. Giraud brought her to the edge of the desk, her feet on his shoulders, and plunged into her.

"How do you feel?" he asked, worried about hurting her because she was so tight around him.

“I’m fine. Shut up and fuck me, professor.” 

Giraud laughed and obliged. He teased her with slow and shallow thrusts, relishing in the tightness and slickness of her entrance. 

Though he was teasing her, he was torturing himself buried deep inside her, so he picked up the speed. This was better than his fantasies. Better than all the times he relieved his aching cock in his office, dreaming of fucking her on his desk. Now his fantasies were a reality.

Briena’s lips parted as he imagined they would, eyes closed as if taking in everything that he was doing. He groaned at the sight of her coming undone for him, calling out 'professor' as she got closer, building up that most delicious pressure deep inside. He was close. Her hands slid through his hair, gripping it as she cried out, making him explode. His movements staggered, spilling inside her, letting out a low groan.

He pulled out of her, still trying to catch his breath. It had been a long time since he did that—it had been too long. Sex with Briena was fantastic, but… oh… wait. 

As his mind cleared from the sexual fog, he stiffened, worried about the ‘after.’ Would she regret what they did? But all those worries melted away seeing Briena smile. Her face was flushed red, and her eyes twinkled as she returned his gaze. She wanted this as much as he had, and the thought stroked his ego more than it should have—but mostly, he was surprised. She must have had no shortage of interested partners, so why him? 

“I wanted this for so long,” she told him, kissing his cheek. 

“So did I. I don’t regret that we waited until tonight, now that you’re no longer my student.” 

“I could still be your student in other ways. There’s so much more you can teach me,” she suggested, a coy smirk still on her face. 

Giraud kissed her, and he felt her grin against his lips. “You’ll have to visit me often for that to happen.”

“I already planned on it… professor,” she said.

“Just promise me one thing.” 

“Name it.” 

He ran a thumb along her lower lip. “Promise me you won’t hold yourself back as you explore this world. You have so much potential, Briena. Don’t shortchange yourself. There are plenty of men your age who will...” 

She silenced him with a kiss, and the argument died on his lips. 

“While there are lovely men my age, I haven’t met one that I like nearly as much as I like you, professor.”

“Giraud,” he corrected, and playfully nipped at her earlobe. “It would be strange to have you call me by my last name after we just had sex on my desk.”

She laughed, and he joined her. Briena always had such an easy-going presence. Maybe that was why he was attracted to her in the first place, but there was still so much he wanted to know about her. He only hoped he would get the chance to find out more. 

“Fine, Giraud. We will keep ‘professor’ for more... private times,” she said, winking. He liked how his name sounded coming from her. He could get used to this and get used to her. It was a shame she had to leave Solitude in a few days. 

As if sensing his thoughts, she said, “I’ll write often and visit when I can. But I will miss you.” 

“I’ll miss you too,” he said, wrapping himself around her.

The thought of her parting was bittersweet. She leaned into his arms and let out a sigh—she was thinking the same thing he was. Giraud clung onto her a little longer, promising to make love to her at least twice more before the night ended.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments always welcome and appreciated.


	32. Compromising Positions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evan just got back into town from a business trip and Olivia couldn't wait to see him and give him a little welcome home gift. It didn't quite turn out as she planned, but she made do. Now Evan just has to find a way to pay her back... er reciprocate. Inappropriate moves at work, Olivia. So much for professionalism.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another one shot of my Olivia and Evan. I also decided to create their faces. I need to spend more time on them, but for now, this will do.
> 
> If you want to read how they started, you can check them out in [Chapter 27 - The V.P.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25890370/chapters/67877971#workskin) and [Chapter 28 - The President](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25890370/chapters/68067034#workskin)

Evan had been out of town for a week on business. He missed Olivia terribly. They had grown close over the past few months. Confident in their growing relationship, and things working out between them, they announced to their staff they were seeing each other. They wanted to be open and not have to sneak around. Then they had to reassure their employees they would remain professional and expected no less from them. 

"It's about time," someone yelled out as everyone laughed.

He and Olivia made plans for that night and he couldn’t wait. He couldn’t believe how fast things moved—how well they got along. Not just that, but she was sexually open, which was a surprise to him at first. Making love with her was fantastic. She told him of her wants and needs, and he told her his. It wasn’t just the sex, but it was easy to talk to her. They always got along, but it was always professional before with her as the boss and him as her V.P. He adored her.

His assistant left his office after dropping off a cup of coffee as he scrolled through his morning email. Evan wanted to see her, but she wasn’t in yet. He loved the fact that the anticipation of waiting to see her left flutters in his stomach. He couldn’t remember feeling this way for another in a long time. They talked every night on the phone while out of town, but it wasn’t the same. If she walked into his office this morning, he knew it would tempt him to ravish her body right on his desk. _Professionalism, Evan. Now is not the time for your mind to be in the gutter_.

“Come in,” he said to a knock on his office door.

His breath caught when he looked up to see the lithe blonde headed his way. Her walk was filled with confidence. His heart fluttered at seeing her, and those earlier thoughts of fucking her on his desk filled his mind. It didn’t help that her lavender blouse was low enough to wonder what lacy bra she was wearing today, so opposite from her professional cream skirt. He wondered if she could hear him gulp. The smirk on her face told him she noticed.

She raised her hand. “Don’t get up,” she said as he was standing to greet her.

“I missed you.”

Olivia gave him a toothy grin as she sauntered over to him. “I missed you too.” 

Instead of sitting in the chair opposite his desk, she strode over and sat on top of it, facing him. He cursed at her crossed legs, tempting him. When he looked up, her eyes were full of mischief. 

“Don’t get me started, woman. The last thing I need is an erection as I meet with my assistant to talk about my schedule for the week.”

“Evan, I would never—”

The look on her face told him otherwise. “You would. Do you even recall our first time in your office?”

She reached for his tie, pulling him toward her as she pressed her lips to his. “That is something I will never forget, Mr. V.P.,” she whispered when she pulled away.

Too late. He was hard as he imagined tying her up with his own tie.

“You’re killing me,” he groaned.

Olivia grinned again, seemingly quite pleased with herself. “I can’t help myself since I missed you so. I may just have to demote you so you won’t have to travel anymore.”

“You wouldn’t.” He knew she was teasing, _wasn’t she?_

She pressed a finger to her lips, looking out the large window as if lost in a debate with herself. “Hmm, perhaps you’re right. You will just have to show me how much you missed me then. We still have a few minutes before the day starts.”

Evan cocked an eyebrow up at her, leaning back in his chair. He knew he was going to give in to her, not that he was complaining. They just had to be quick. She was the boss. If she wanted to have some fun, he would be more than happy to oblige. Too bad there wasn’t time to tie her up, give her those spankings she loved so much.

“What did you have in mind,” he asked, smiling at her.

Olivia said nothing as she spread her thighs apart, opening up her skirt. His fingers didn’t hesitate as they trailed up her smooth stockinged legs all the way to her garter. He loved it when she wore those. Evan sat up straight in his chair and leaned in to kiss her knee as he slipped his hand deep to her hot core. He smiled into her leg to find she wasn’t wearing anything underneath.

“Killing me…” he groaned. She was already wet as he slipped a finger between her folds then spreading her slick wetness up over her clit, hearing her hiss.

“Fuck, we’re so unprofessional,” she groaned, leaning back on her hands.

“You started this, Ms. President.”

“Pull it out,” she ordered.

Evan knew exactly what she meant and unzipped his trousers, pulling out his cock, watching Olivia lick, then bite her bottom lip. He needed to be biting those lips, not her. He moaned at the sight, imagining those plump lips wrapped around him.

The knock at the door startled them both as Evan panicked. “Shit! James is going to know what we are doing if you’re here spread out, not to mention my hard-on,” he hissed.

Olivia dropped to the floor and scrambled under his desk. “He can’t know I’m here. I haven’t checked in yet,” she whispered.

“What the…? What are you doing?” Evan asked, watching Olivia climb under his large desk to hide. _This is ridiculous_. Was she serious or was this another game of hers? He wanted to laugh if he didn’t have such a massive erection. He fixed his hair, straightened his tie, and sat down behind his desk Olivia was under.

“Come in,” he yelled out.

His assistant James walked in, carrying his laptop as he did each Monday morning, spending time going over his schedule for the week.

“Are you ready for me, Mr. Rickert?”

“Please, have a seat, James,” he said, coughing at Olivia who was running a hand up his pant leg. “What do you have for me today?”

James opened up his laptop and started typing away, looking at the screen, brows furrowed in concentration. “I made sure not to tie you up too much today after your travels. I’m sure you have jetlag.” 

Evan coughed again about ‘tying up,’ trying to get the visual of Olivia naked, hands bound with his tie. “I appreciate that.”

“Let see… You have a meeting at 2:30 with Mr. Frank Sloan to talk about the acquisition. He said he has some recent developments he wants to put by you.”

Evan did everything in his power not to allow his face to flush as Oliva grabbed his cock from underneath his desk. _What is that wily woman doing?_

“Oh… I mean, good. I’m ah… looking forward to it.” _Did my voice just go up an octave?_

James kept tinkering away at his keyboard as Evan brushed Olivia away, but she shoved his hand back, grasping his cock, and ran her tongue along the underside and over the tip. _Fuck._

“There are three meetings for you tomorrow…”

“Whoa! I mean, that’s a lot. Okay. So I will be ah... busy tomorrow,” he said, unable to control the heat on his face. He gripped his pen, trying to distract himself from Olivia’s mouth, coughing again.

“Are you alright, sir?”

“Fine. I’m fine. Just… jetlagged, as you said.”

“Right. So your first meeting tomorrow is at 8:30 am with the lawyers, and they expect you to head straight there.”

Olivia took him deep inside her mouth and he almost slumped in his chair to shove more of himself in her, but he forced himself to focus, trying not to fidget in his chair. His heart was palpitating from the dangers of being exposed to lust and wanting to fuck her with every fiber of his being. When James wasn’t looking, he wiped the sweat from his brow.

“What’s next?” Evan asked, struggling to keep his voice neutral, loosening his tie.

As James droned on about his schedule, Olivia sucked him, grabbing his balls through his pants, squeezing them ever so gently. He knew he was about to come, feeling the goosebumps travel across his flesh. He reached down and fisted her hair, pulling her head back and forth as she sucked him. If she wanted to play dirty, he was going to get the most out of it. Another cough came from him as he struggled to maintain control. No, she had all the power over him. Who was he fooling?

“You’re not coming down with something, are you, sir?”

_Coming_. Evan coughed once more, stifling a laugh. “Oh, I hope not. Maybe?”

“I will get you some vitamins during lunch.”

His body stiffened as he came. “Fuck,” he blurted, then rushed a hand to his head, feigning a headache as he spilled into Olivia’s mouth, sucking him dry.

He felt deflated, but he had to hold himself together until James left. 

“I will get you some aspirin too.”

“I appreciate it, James.”

“Well, if there’s anything else I can get you, let me know. Do you have any questions about your schedule?” his assistant asked.

“No, I think I got it. Just email everything to me as you usually do. That will be all.”

James closed his laptop and headed out of Evan’s office. Then he pulled Olivia up, who was wiping his cum off her lip, trying not to laugh. He almost got hard again. “Ms. President, you are more naughty than you led me to believe. You do realize I’m going to pay you back for this, right?”

She stood and pressed her lips to his. “I hope so, Mr. V.P. I expect to see you in my office for lunch to finish up this… meeting of ours.”

_I’m going to pay her back_ , he thought, laughing at her shaking gorgeous tush as she snuck out of his office.

During lunch, if Olivia thought they were going to have a little fun in her office, she was sorely mistaken. He was going to get her back for that blow job under his desk. 

“Are you ready to show me how much you missed me?” she asked, walking around her desk to sit on his lap when they finished eating.

His finger swirled around her nipple through her blouse, hardening it so much it poked through the delicate fabric. He grinned. He had other plans. “Hmm, can’t right now, sweetheart. I’ve got to work on my proposal for tomorrow.” 

“Wait… what?” she asked, eyes wide.

Evan pulled her body against his as he slipped a hand under her skirt. He watched her eyes go from disappointment to lust as he grazed her clit and inserted a finger through her folds. _Damn, she’s so wet._ He pulled out his hand and inserted his finger through her plump lips, making her taste herself. When he felt she could take no more, he straightened up, pulled down her skirt. Then helped her stand as he stood, patted her bottom, and headed out of her office. When he turned back to her, her mouth was agape. He grinned and winked at her. “Payback, baby.”

“Evan, don’t…”

“Don’t worry. You’ll get yours.”

The pout on her face left him laughing and hard as he walked out of her office. _Fuck, she’s adorable when she pouts_. He almost turned around to give her what she wanted, but he held back. Evan wanted her dying for his touch, willing to do anything for release.

Later that evening, they headed out to dinner before going home. The restaurant was busy, full of workers enjoying a good meal and drinks after a hard day at work. At least there was a booth available that would normally seat five or six people. _Perfect_. He and Olivia ordered drinks and dinner, talking about their day beyond the sexual tension. 

Olivia was relaxed as she sipped on her cocktail, forgetting about the tension between them during lunch. Evan planned to bring that all back, slipping his hand underneath the tablecloth, and trailed gentle fingers along her stockinged thigh. He smiled when she froze, glass to her lips, mid-sip. She probably gasped, but he couldn’t hear it through the din of the restaurant. 

She tried to cross her legs, but he slipped his hand between her thighs. “Open your legs,” he whispered in her ear.

“Evan, not here,” she said under her breath.

“Open your legs,” he ordered again. “Or I will punish you tonight when we get back to my place.”

Evan was already hard, grateful there was a tablecloth to hide everything. 

“Evan…”

“You know you want this, baby.”

Olivia flushed but spread her thighs for him. Evan smiled as he took a sip of his whiskey as if they weren’t doing anything at all other than waiting on their dinner. He slid her skirt over her thighs and sipped a finger in her wet core. Yes, she definitely liked this. She was still holding her drink in two hands, elbows on the table as if trying to hide her face, which flushed so beautifully.

He lifted one of her legs, draping it on his to give him better access to her as he rubbed her clit. He was so hard, feeling how wet she was. His release would come later. For now, it was all about her and payback. 

“Evan… please,” she panted.

“Please what, my dear? Keep going? Your wish is my command,” he said in her ear.

“Fuck,” she groaned as his fingers slipped inside, then turned back to rubbing. 

Evan could tell she was getting close, but he stopped when the server set their food on the table. 

“Who’s hungry?” the server asked.

“I’m famished,” Evan said.

“Yep, hungry,” Olivia squeaked out, body deflated when his hand left her, but trying to hide her flushed face.

“You’re not doing a good job hiding your pleasure, sweetheart,” he said when the server left. 

Olivia coughed and sat up straighter, putting down her drink and dug into her steak, taking a bite. As she started eating, Evan continued his assault on her clit with fingers. She moaned as she swallowed the delicious steak just as she was getting close. Just then, the server appeared again.

“Fuck,” she grunted when he removed his hand. Evan chuckled and told the server there was nothing else they needed.

“You’re killing me, Evan.”

This time, Evan laughed outright and resumed his rubbing as she ate her meal. 

“Don’t let them see,” he said, knowing she was close. 

“It’s a little hard to do, Evan.”

“I will punish you. Now you know how I felt today,” he said. It wasn’t in anger, but pleasure. Evan loved how open Olivia was to exploring their sexuality, and he wondered where she had been all his life. 

“Please,” she said.

“Please what? Say it.”

“Finish me.”

Evan smiled and rubbed faster. She gripped the table with one hand as her body stiffened with the orgasm. He loved feeling her strong pulses on his fingers as she grew wetter. Then her body sagged as she came down. He grabbed his napkin and slipped it under the table to clean her, not wanting to have a wet stain on her skirt as he kissed her warm neck.

Once he finished, he ate his own meal that had grown cold, but it was all worth it. 

“You must be proud of yourself,” she said, but she wasn’t angry. Her face had a smirk as she looked at him.

“Very. You should be more careful about how you please me, baby. I still have plans to punish you later.”

Olivia groaned as she put another piece of meat in her mouth. 

Evan loved how sexual they were, but she was more than that to him. He was falling hard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Please leave a comment! Don't be shy :)


	33. The Christmas Elf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brynjolf and Raven are back just in time for the holidays. He has a little plan in store for Raven's return after traveling. A silly Christmas elf outfit she did not expect. But what Brynjolf wants, Brynjolf gets. In the end, they both get a little holiday treat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can read more about Raven and Brynjolf in >a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25890370/chapters/64779853">Chapter 8

When Raven walked into the Cistern, she saw the look in Brynjolf’s eye, that ever-familiar twinkle with that gorgeous smirk of his. She knew exactly what he wanted, and she wouldn’t give it to him despite feeling the sexual tug and pull of him. He was a hard man to resist, drawing almost all to him who crossed his path. But she just got into town after being gone over two weeks, exhausted.

“Oh, no you don’t Bryn. I know that look. I’m tired and I need to bathe,” she said.

“What?” he asked with fake innocence, but his smile told her otherwise.

Raven narrowed her eyes at him, scolding, and walked off to bathe the grime off of her, but she smiled when she turned her back to him. She missed him terribly. 

After her bath, she wrapped herself in a large towel and walked into the room she shared with Brynjolf, dropping her gear on the floor. 

As soon as she walked into the room, Brynjolf was already hard for her, filled with naughty thoughts in his head. How could he not with her dark skin wrapped in only a towel, glistening with dripping water from her long, black, wet hair? He wanted to fuck her until they were both raw. “Took you long enough,” he said.

His voice startled Raven as she tried to settle down her heart, not knowing he was already waiting for her. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack?” she asked, but she was laughing, a hand pressed to her chest to steady her heart. The smile left her lips when she saw his heated green eyes, her thighs instinctively clenching. It was the same look he gave her as soon as she got home, minus the smirk. The look on his face said he was about to get what he wanted and there was nothing she could do.

Brynjolf was lying on his side in their bed, wearing only his breeches. If he was trying to get her riled up, it was working as she stared at his muscular body, his chest sprinkled with red hairs. She loved how they looked together with his fair skin and red hair compared to her dark flesh and black hair. _Why does he have to be so fucking sexy?_ _Why does he have to be such a beautiful man with a luscious voice?_ She cursed under her breath. Watching him already made her wet, knowing she was going to struggle to say no to him tonight, no matter how tired she was.

“I know that look and I need sleep, Bryn,” she said, hoping she came across forceful, though when Brynjolf wanted something, he always got it. Few people told him no. That included her. Not that she put up much of a fight when it came to him. She always gave in.

He tried not to smile when he saw her as she tried to hide her clenching legs, struggling not to stare at him. He almost laughed when she tried to frown, fighting back her grin. There was no way he was going to let her sleep yet. She was gone too long, over two weeks, and he needed her.

“You can sleep later,” he said, then tossed her a bag.

Raven caught the bag with two hands as the towel she was holding fell from her body. “You did that on purpose,” she huffed.

“Who, me?” he asked, voice playful. Brynjolf hardened at the sight of her lithe figure and full breasts. 

“What’s this?” she asked, brows dropping in a furrow, hearing the sound of little bells.

“Think of it as a… Christmas present. To me.”

Her eyebrow winged up when she looked at him and he had to stifle his groan. Brynjolf loved when she looked at him like that, but he didn’t know why. It was a cross between shock and lust, as if she could hide the lust part. Then again, everything she did turned him on.

“Do you always buy yourself a Christmas present?” she asked.

“Why would I do that, when all I need is you?”

“Flatterer,” she scoffed, but she couldn’t hide the pleasure that his words caused.

Raven stood in the middle of the room naked as she dug inside the bag pulling out some… clothes? She lifted the first item, and it was a long, soft, knitted hat that was red with bells at the end. The other was red knit stockings. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she said. “What are these exactly?”

“As I said… my Christmas present.”

“Are you trying to tell me you want me to wear these?”

“Yes… tonight.”

“Can’t I just buy you a present?” she complained. “These are ridiculous, Bryn.”

“You are to be my naughty elf tonight.”

“I see where this is going.” Raven turned to face Brynjolf, arms out. “I’m already naked. As much as I would love to play your little game, I’m tired. I’m not wearing these.”

“I love it when you play hard to get,” he said, inching closer to her.

“No hard to get. Tired, Bryn.”

_Fuck_. She knew that other look he always gave when he wanted something and wasn’t going to back down without a fight. She clenched her thighs together again, seeing the bulge in his breeches as he got out of bed, walking towards her. No, not walking. Sauntering. She cursed under her breath. The fact was, she had no willpower when it came to Brynjolf. He was just too sexy as fuck.

Raven stood there, arms limp with the garments if one would call them that, in her hands, as he came over to her. Her knees grew weak, knowing she was going to cave.

Brynjolf stood right up against her naked body, feeling her cool, drying skin against his. “Mmhmm. I have ways of waking you up,” he whispered in her ear, watching the spread of goosebumps glide across her skin.

Brynjolf reached her, stood close enough that he could feel her warm breath on his skin and they were nose to nose. He reached down between her thighs, inserting a finger through her folds, feeling how wet she was. When he pulled out his finger, he put it in his mouth. “You may be tired, but your body isn’t. Put them on,” he ordered, his voice deep, sultry. He smiled as her body quivered and responded to him. “Don’t make me tell you again.” His voice was calm, but with force.

“But…” she tried again, but couldn’t control the moan that escaped her lips. Her eyes closed, inhaling his scent that she loved so much, combined with that hint of arousing musk.

With speed, he reached up and grabbed a fistful of hair, pulling her head back, exposing her neck. They collided lips with a violent force as he thrust his tongue into her mouth. When he pulled away, he pressed gentle kisses on her throat, then nipped her chin and lower lip. “Now.” His voice was soft but commanding.

Whenever Brynjolf ordered her about in the bedroom, her body grew in heat. She loved it when he took control. His simple word in her ear left her skin covered in goosebumps as she shuddered, forgetting how tired she was. Sometimes she hated how he knew her inside and out. Small manipulations and Brynjolf had her eating out of his hand. Raven had control and free-will. She could tell him no and go to bed—be forceful, but she gave in. He wasn’t wrong. She was already wet for him.

Raven put the hat on and the stockings in a huff, pretending to be irritated. She would not go down without letting him know of her displeasure with the garments. She felt ridiculous, but seeing Brynjolf rub the bulge between his legs as he looked at her, eyes on fire, she nearly melted to the ground. 

“There’s my little naughty Christmas elf. You look delightfully delicious. On the bed. Now.”

When she didn’t move fast enough, he smacked her bare bottom, and she yelped and scrambled, getting on the bed as he ordered. 

Brynjolf was so hard for her. He loved how she gave in to please him, and he loved pleasing her. She was gorgeous in the red stockings and hat. He was aware she was a bit embarrassed, but the sight of her made him so hard. Whenever she moved her head, the little bells at the end of the hat tinkled. He knew soon enough that sound, whenever he heard it, would set his body on fire for her. It would become instinct, like a moth to a flame.

“On your hands and knees. Face the headboard,” he ordered, pulling out the riding crop he had ready and waiting. 

Raven did as she was ordered, her body building up in heat from the anticipation of what he had in store for her. If this was what he wanted, she would give it to him, knowing he would give her whatever she desired once she satisfied him.

“You didn’t even bother to greet me. Not even a ‘hello’ when you walked in,” he said in her ear as he leaned in, hiding the crop behind his back.

“Bryn…”

“Not a word.”

“Then you better punish me,” she whispered, looking back at him coyly, watching his eyes darken in lust.

_Fuck._ He loved her little teases, knowing she wanted him to punish her. With her being gone for over two weeks, it was all he could do not to take her right then. She didn’t realize how much power she had over him.

Raven could feel the wetness build between her thighs as she sat on her legs and hands. She knew he wasn’t really angry. It was a game they played frequently. Sometimes she was the one doing the punishing when Brynjolf needed a break from the control.

He walked around the bed, dragging the crop against her skin. It was gentle, but she knew soon enough it would hurt. A good kind of pain. Almost everything they did together was all about the balance between pain and pleasure. Then there were times they just went vanilla and made love, needing a break. Their little games used up a lot of energy for both of them.

He stood behind her and pulled her ass in the air, pushing her chest to the bed, making adjustments exactly how he wanted her body. When he was satisfied, he admired the view of her from behind. Her smooth ass and glistening pussy called out to him, eager for his punishments. The scene made him painfully hard. Especially in her little elf outfit. He would seek no relief for himself until he was done with her. It was as much punishment for him as it was for her. Just differently.

Brynjolf adjusted his cock in his pants as it throbbed, then slid the leather bit on the crop, teasing the crack of her ass and through her folds, getting it wet with her juices. “It stings more this way.”

Raven trembled with anticipation of the sting of what was sure to come, but the feel of leather sliding in and out of her almost made her come right then. He took so long, was so quiet, she wondered if he was just going to stare at her all night instead. The build-up had her flinching when he did nothing. Then came the thwack on her ass. She yelped in both pleasure and pain. 

“Shh, that’s my girl,” he said soothingly, rubbing where he hit her. 

“I don’t like it when you come home and not greet me.” Another stinging smack on her other ass cheek. “I don’t like you trying to ignore me.” _Thwack, thwack._ He bent and kissed her ass, then rubbed it, telling her what a good girl she was.

“You know better than to say no to me, Raven,” he said, digging the leather tip into her dripping juices again. 

“I’m sorry, Bryn,” she groaned. The total pain of the crop to his sorry kisses had her reeling back and forth, confusing her body, wanting to give him everything he ever desired.

“I know you are, sweetheart, but you need to be punished.” Four more smacks and with each hit, her little bells tinkled, making him harder and harder. “Shh, you are being so good,” he said when she whimpered. Brynjolf, as a reward for her holding still and taking her punishment, teased her tight little pucker with his tongue, then dragged it down through her wet folds, inhaling her arousal. 

When she whimpered again, begging for more, and she got the crop again. “I didn’t say you could beg, did I?”

Raven shook her head no as the little bells chimed, calling to him. _Fuck!_ Her ass was almost as red as her stockings. Then he used the crop again. As he pressed kisses to her now sensitive skin, he pulled out his thick cock, stroking it. The bells and her whimpers had him eager and ready for her. He wouldn’t be able to take it much longer, not wanting to come right then.

“What do you say?” he asked her.

“I’m sorry, Bryn.”

“That’s better, my little Christmas elf.”

Her ass stung, but he soothed it with his kisses, slipping fingers in her hot, wet core. She was ready for him, wanting to taste him. There was something about how he handled her punishment that had her dripping for him, her mind addled with lust. The more he used the crop on her, all she could think about was having him, pleasing him. She would do anything for him at that point. No longer were there thoughts of sleep. That could come later. 

“I want you,” she said.

“And you will have me.”

“I want to taste you. Please,” she begged.

_Shit_. Brynjolf nearly came as he stroked himself with her words and looked at her wearing nothing but red stockings and that silly hat. “My dirty little elf wants to suck me?”

“Yes,” she breathed.

He climbed on the bed in front of her as she looked up at him, still on her hands and knees. His cock was already out as he brought it near her full and luscious lips. Her eyes were only looking at one thing, biting her bottom lip as he stroked himself. 

“Open your mouth, sweetheart. You’ve been such a good girl. Here is your present from me. You can have this now,” he said, then groaned as she took him all the way in her mouth like a woman starved, her nose pressed up against the hairs. _Damn her mouth_. “Shit, Raven.”

Not wanting to mess up her hat, enjoying the bells tinkling as she moved his dick in and out of her mouth, he grabbed the sides of her face, moving her to the rhythm and speed he wanted. It was happening too fast, so he pulled out to steady himself. Raven looked up at him with those big gorgeous red eyes of hers, sticking out her tongue as she ran it over his engorged, sensitive tip. He shuddered at the sensation. 

“Fuck it!” he grunted as he thrust back into her mouth. Raven coughed, gaged a little, and moan, the vibrations nearly sending him over the edge. He moved faster and faster, until he felt his balls getting ready, the heat and pressure build. He exploded in a mass of sticky fluid down her throat, his movements sputtering until he had no more to give her. His heart pounded in his chest as the sexual waves settled down.

“Don’t move,” he ordered.

Raven did as she was told except for falling back on her chest in the bed. She was getting sleepy now. Getting the crop took a lot out of them both. She yawned when she felt something shift behind her, then something fluid dripped down the crack of her ass. He flipped her over onto her back, then Brynjolf inserted one of his fingers. She hissed at the sensation, eyes closed, and thrust her body for more, so he inserted another finger. 

“Look at me, Rav,” he whispered.

She opened her eyes as Brynjolf watched her in her pleasure. They locked their eyes as he thrust another finger in her. Raven bit her lip at the sensation, remembering to breathe. 

Brynjolf kissed the smoothness on her thighs, then folded her legs, pressing them against her chest. “Gods, you are a sight, Rav. Your little hole is stretched so beautifully with my fingers.” He bent down and ran his tongue from his fingers in her ass all the way to her clit, curling his lips in a smile when she mewled.

Raven arched her back for more, struggling to maintain eye contact, but they closed when he ran his tongue through her again. His tongue lapped her juices, then his lips kissed her clit, back to swirling it, sucking it. His mouth moved away, breathing on her pussy, teasing her. 

“Bryn…” she begged, placing hands on her breasts, pinching her nipples.

“What do you want, Raven?” Brynjolf felt the heat emanating from her body, she was so turned on. It wouldn’t take much to set her off, but he wanted to prolong as long as he could.

“Please… suck me. I can’t… I can’t wait any longer,” she breathed.

“Hmm, I kind of like you wreathing around, desperate for my mouth.”

“Bryn!” she yelled, squirming, her cunt seeking his mouth, unable to find it, desperate.

“If that’s what you want…”

“Yes!”

He thrust his fingers in and out of her tight hole as he went to work on her clit, sucking, licking, nibbling. Raven gripping the blankets wasn’t enough. He wasn’t doing enough. She reached for his head, tangling fingers in his thick red hair, pulling him closer to her for more. The pressure was building, readying her body for sweet relief. _Finally._ She held her breath as it hit her, holding on to the sensation as she exploded and pulsed. “Bryn!” she cried out and began to come down from her sexual high, breathing again.

Raven’s body was limp when Brynjolf sat up, wiping his mouth and short beard. He kissed up her weakened body and pressed his lips to hers, but she didn’t respond. He blew out a laugh, seeing that she had fallen asleep. She wasn’t kidding when she said she was tired.

He pulled her body up further into the bed, fluffed her pillow, and put her head on it, laughing at the little bells tingling for him. He felt himself getting hard again. Yes, those bells are going to be a constant reminder. But he pushed it aside and then draped the blankets over them. 

“Merry Christmas, baby,” he whispered.

He rolled over on his side, pulling her body close to his, feeling her skin still hot from their game. Before he fell asleep, he thought about how lucky he was to find a woman who was so willing and open to him. After he kissed her shoulder goodnight, he fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments are always welcome and appreciated.


	34. Eyes of Silver

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vilkas, and newest Harbinger, has his eyes on the newest member of the Companions, Archer, a Bosmer. He doesn't know what it is about Archer that draws him in, heats him deep to his very core whenever he's near. He wants the Bosmer, desires him, but as Harbinger, he tries to push such thoughts away. But Archer has other plans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> M/M
> 
> This is a little one-shot for a story I'm about to work on. But I was impatient to see my two boys together :).

He stood in a dark corner, arms folded, leaning against the cold stone walls, shadow cloaking his face as he watched his family argue about what their next step was regarding the Silver Hand. They already decided. It was a matter of how to attack and when. But Vilkas wasn’t listening as he tuned out the voices. He was ready. It was Archer that had his undivided attention as he stared at the large, blonde Bosmer. He was built like a warrior, which was unusual for Wood Elves. They were usually lithe in body. Every once in a while he would glance in Vilkas’ direction, silver eyes like his, glowing thanks to the lycanthropic curse. He tried to analyze Archer’s looks, but his face was always covered in a perpetual smirk. It wasn’t one just of arrogance, but of good humor. The man was infuriatingly happy despite his struggles.

But Vilkas’ eyes never left Archer. They never wavered as the man argued about how to proceed. It wasn’t like Vilkas to be interested in men in a romantic sort of way. He had a couple of times, but he preferred women. But Archer had him enthralled, though he would never let the man know it. He was fucking gorgeous, and he captivated all who met him. Where Vilkas was moody, frustrated, stoic; Archer was playful, fun, and a damned tease. It amazed the Companion how this man could be so upbeat when his world was turned upside down. It was sexy as Oblivion, and Vilkas sometimes wished he had an ounce of the man’s charisma. 

Archer’s forearms grew tense, veins rising under the surface of the skin that Vilkas found so appealing, and he didn’t know why. The man’s Adam’s apple moved up and down in his heated passion, arguing, and Vilkas couldn’t stop staring at it. He shifted as he leaned against the wall, growing hard just watching the man. He hated himself for losing his control like that.

Archer forced Vilkas to face these feelings he was having. He wasn’t prone to having relationships, but it was more than sex on the brain when it came to the Bosmer. Vilkas wanted all of him, but he refused to do anything about it. He closed his eyes and breathed, willing himself to stop getting hard, looking at the elf and newest member of the Companions. _I’m the Harbinger, for fuck’s sake. Act like it!_ It was the first time he pulled away his stares since the meeting started. Vilkas slipped out an unintended, frustrated growl, rubbing his face in irritation.

“Something you want to add, Vilk?” Archer asked, a smirk playing on his full lips as if he knew something Vilkas didn’t and wasn’t going to share. 

Vilkas hated and loved the shortening of his name, allowing no one to do it other than Archer. “No,” Vilkas grunted.

“Why sneak in? Let’s just get in there and slaughter them! Stop playing games and wasting time,” Aela demanded, slamming her hand on the table.

“And what if things get out of hand and they kill my sister?” Archer argued, his smirk and eye twinkle gone, replaced with a hint of irritation. It was rare he got angry, but Aela was good at doing that to the best of them.

Vilkas watched him as he ran a hand through his shoulder-length blonde hair, his arms flexing in muscle. The man preferred wearing no sleeves in his armor to give him flexibility when using his bow. He was so good at archery, hence his nickname. The Companion shifted against the wall, getting uncomfortable between his legs. It was a good thing he was wearing armor so no one could see. It wouldn’t surprise him, though, if Archer noticed. That man noticed everything.

He didn’t understand this arousal he had for the Bosmer, spending countless nights trying to figure it out. Vilkas knew many felt the same as they got to know the man, but it seemed Vilkas wasn’t immune to Archer’s charms.

“What do you think, Harbinger?” Aela asked.

“I agree with Archer. We need to go in and out, fast and quiet. He’s the best archer we’ve got and he can take out many with none of the assholes knowing we are even there,” Vilkas replied, still staring at the elf who winked at him. _Asshole._

_Fuck, I have to stop staring. That elf’s ego is big enough_. Vilkas forced his eyes away from the blonde elf and eyed Aela. “I know you want to morph into our beasts and slaughter them, but we can’t risk it. Let’s be smart about this.”

“She’s the fucking enemy!” Aela burst, standing up and slammed a fist on the table again. “I know you hate our beast form—”

“Enough!” Vilkas yelled out before she could go any further. He pinched the bridge of his nose to calm himself, angry she got him so riled. Kodlak would have been calm and collected. Vilkas wasn’t made to be a leader. He didn’t want it, but the circle forced him into it.

“They have brainwashed her. Aela, please. We need to find her and help her. I’m telling you, there’s good in her,” Farkas pleaded.

“Fine! We’ll do it your way,” she said, storming off. “If it kills us, I’ll haunt you in death.”

And that was the end of the meeting as everyone dispersed back to their rooms or to train out in the courtyard. All left but Vilkas and Archer. Vilkas hadn’t moved an inch from his shadowed corner, still staring at the Bosmer, who was staring back like a duel to see who would look away first. It was Vilkas, as he relaxed his arms and headed to his room. He wasn’t in the mood for Archer’s games.

As he ambled towards his private quarters, someone grabbed his arm. No, not someone. Archer. Vilkas looked down at the strong fingers holding him back and inwardly groaned with a strange desire flooding through him by the simplest of touches. _What does this man do to me?_

“Hey, you alright, Vilk?” Archer asked. He always called him Vilk. Vilkas preferred his name and hated when people shortened it, even from his closest friends, but when Archer said it, it warmed him.

“I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine. Well, you do, but…,” he replied, winking with that usual teasing in his voice. Vilkas wasn’t in the mood for it.

“I have a lot on my mind,” Vilkas said, not looking at him. He pulled away from the hand that gripped him, which tightened around his bicep, but then let go.

“Look if you want to—”

“I said I was fine.”

Vilkas reached his room and closed the door behind him. He took his time removing his armor, placing it carefully on the armor stand. It needed cleaning, but it was late now. Maybe tomorrow he would take it to Eorlund. 

He undressed, grabbed the book he was reading, and crawled into bed to read until he fell asleep as he did each night. Tomorrow he would train and get everyone ready and up to speed for the battle ahead. Vilkas still had his doubts about Archer’s sister, but he trusted him and Farkas that she could and should be saved.

As soon as he relaxed, there was a knock on his door. He cursed under his breath. It was a duty of the Harbinger to be available at all times should any of the Companions or whelps need his help. Vilkas pulled on some linen breeches and opened his door, surprised to see Archer there, leaning in his doorway. 

“I don’t believe you,” he said.

Vilkas’ eyes narrowed at the man. “What don’t you believe?”

Archer stood there and stared up and down Vilkas’ body, making no apologies for it. It wasn’t just a glance at seeing him shirtless, his silver eyes darkened as they lingered on his abs. When his eyes drew back up to Vilkas’ face, he said, “That you’re fine.”

What was Archer’s point? “Well, I don’t know what to tell you.”

“I think you’re frustrated about something, and it’s not about the Silver Hand. You know as well as me, we will get my sister out of there. So, what’s really wrong… _Harbinger?_ ”

Vilkas closed his eyes and took a deep breath. This man saw way too much. Archer using his title had him heating. _What the fuck?_ His voice was deep, sultry if there was such a thing for a man. Vilkas cursed his traitorous body, not understanding his reaction to the elf. When his eyes opened again, he looked at Archer, who wore his smirk again. He always had that face, like he knew more than anyone else. It was smug, arrogant, playful... irresistible.

“You make a lot of assumptions,” Vilkas said, breaking the silence between them.

Archer reached up and brushed an errant lock of dark hair from Vilkas’ face. “Do I? Maybe I do. But I’m not wrong about you.”

“That I’m frustrated?”

“Oh yeah. You are a heck of a lot of frustrated,” Archer chuckled. He dropped his hand and grazed Vilkas’ skin with fingers as he did so. He made no excuses as his eyes drifted over Vilkas’ body again. 

When Vilkas remained silent, neither confirming nor denying, Archer said, “I see you watching me all the time.”

“I don’t—”

“It’s fine. I like you watching.”

Vilkas wasn’t much of a talker, but he completely lost his voice at Archer’s words, stomach fluttering. He crossed his arms and looked away from the handsome man standing in front of him. His face grew hot, embarrassed that he caught him, not that he was really hiding his stares. He just believed the elf didn’t notice. 

“I watch you too,” Archer said, breaking Vilkas of his embarrassment.

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about,” Vilkas said. _Lies._ It was a weak response, unable to come up with a viable excuse. 

The smirk on Archer’s face grew and Vilkas had an urge to either hit it or kiss it. “Really?” he asked, not believing a word the Harbinger said. “Are you sure about that?” The elf inched closer to Vilkas, mimicking his stance with folded arms. But where Vilkas was wearing a scowl, Archer had a smile. “That look of yours isn’t fooling anyone. But I do enjoy a broody man.”

“Do you have a point in all this or are you trying to torment me?” Vilkas asked.

The elf’s eyes gleamed in humor, arching an eyebrow. “Torment? Do I torment you, _Harbinger_? Like a good kind of torment or an annoying kind of torment?”

“Both.”

Archer blinked a couple of times, his smirk wavering, but he recovered. It wasn’t fast enough that Vilkas didn’t take note. 

Before Vilkas analyzed what he was doing, he grabbed the elf from the back of his head and brought their lips together. _What the fuck am I doing?_ Vilkas gave a silent curse and pulled away. “I’m… sorry, I—”

“Shut the fuck up,” the elf said, pulling Vilkas into another kiss. The Harbinger was stiff, his mind a cluster-fuck of debate, but as Archer plunged his tongue through his lips, Vilkas melted into the man. His hands reached for the soft blonde hair, fisting it as their kiss deepened. For Vilkas, it was a desperate sort of kiss, almost angry. He didn’t want to give in, but he started it, didn’t he? He struggled to understand this lure Archer had over him, trying to deny it, avoid it. But it was out now. Now he wanted to devour the elf.

“It’s about time you did something about this,” Archer said when they came up for air, humor in his voice, always teasing.

“Gods, you’re irritating.”

“But you adore it,” he quipped.

Vilkas laughed for the first time. It was funny, but it also exasperated him. “I hate how true that is.”

Archer smiled, standing close to Vilkas, playing with a strand of dark hair that fell in his face. “I want more of this, Vilk. Please tell me there’s more than just that amazing kiss we just shared.”

“We need to focus on getting your sister back,” Vilkas said, trying to push back the wave of desire, wanting to give in.

“She’s all I think about, next to you.”

That admission surprised the Companion. He knew Archer teased him, looked at him, but Vilkas thought he was just playing around, not serious. It was a reason he resisted the elf, unsure if he would reject him or not. “You tease,” he said, voice flat, not sure if he was being baited, but Archer’s face was serious.

The Bosmer said nothing as he reached for him again, grabbing his face and pulling him in for another kiss. Vilkas didn’t resist. He moaned when Archer swiped his tongue over his lip, then thrusted his tongue in his mouth. He grabbed the elf’s arms, wanting to feel their strength. The forearms rippled with muscle from years of using the bow. Vilkas could stare at them all day. A nip on his chin brought him back to reality that he was finally kissing Archer. 

Desire flooded Vilkas. Yes, he wanted more… needed more. 

“Shit, I love your lips,” the elf said. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted to suck on them?” His words were bold, daring. Vilkas burned with them, stomach fluttering. 

Archer’s lips pressed against the scruff of Vilkas’ chin and worked their way down to his throat as he tangled his fingers in the long blonde hair. His breathing was erratic in his lust, hardly able to believe they were doing this. It was surreal. Vilkas couldn’t remember the last time he was with a man. It was back in his much younger days, but it felt right like they belonged together.

The elf slid hands over Vilkas’ strong abs and got on his knees, kissing and running his tongue along the warm flesh. Vilkas closed his eyes. He was so hard, he ached, throbbing to his banging heartbeat. But when Archer slipped his fingers through the edge of his breeches, Vilkas stopped him.

“Wait, what are—”

But Archer shook himself loose, looking up at him as he dragged the fabric down, freeing Vilkas thick cock. Vilkas gasped, hearing Archer gasp at the sight. _Fuck._ Seeing the elf at his feet, face in front of his cock had him nearly spilling, willing himself for control as he leaked precum. Was he really going to let Archer suck him off? The elf’s silver eyes grew dark with lust, no longer smirking.

“Shit, Vilk. Gorgeous,” he whispered.

Archer’s words sent goosebumps traveling across Vilkas’ already sensitive skin. Having lycanthropy heightened all his senses. The warm breath from the elf sent waves of crushing lust through him, and the man barely touched him yet. Perhaps it was more from his own need to have Archer and finally getting him.

“Against the wall,” ordered the elf. 

“I—”

“Now. I need you and I won’t have you collapsing on me.”

Vilkas groaned at the visual and his words. He scooted back until he hit wall as Archer scrambled on his knees towards him, then pulled down his breeches around his ankles. Vilkas felt ridiculous until the elf grasped the base of his cock and licked the tip of precum. “Gods…”

“Delicious. I’m going to have you yelling out my name in a minute.”

“Cocky asshole.”

Archer laughed, taking no offense, looking up at the panting man. “You love it.”

“Aye,” Vilkas heard himself admit. Something he would never have done otherwise.

The elf ran his tongue from the base underneath the sensitive flesh to his tip. Vilkas clung to the man’s hair like a lifeline, his knees trembling at the sensation. Then Archer teased, kissing along his length, licking more precum. “Please,” Vilkas moaned, desperate.

“Please what, Harbinger? Tell me.”

Why did that turn him on, even more, being called Harbinger by him? “Gods, more. Please,” he said, not recognizing his own hoarse voice.

Vilkas was grateful Archer remained silent as he wrapped his gorgeous lips around his cock, sliding down until his nose met the coarse, curly hair. His lips were tight, tongue teasing. He had to watch. “Fuck,” he gasped, as Archer moved front and back, sucking him off. Vilkas struggled to believe what was happening was real. 

His toes curled as Archer sucked him deep as possible, feeling his mouth constrict. He needed more. Faster. Deeper. Vilkas grasped each side of Archer’s head and moved him to the speed he wanted. The elf put up no resistance, giving him what he wanted. Vilkas threw back his head, hitting on the hard wall, but he ignored it, feeling the pressure build in his balls. He was going to come soon. 

“By Ysmir, you have an amazing mouth,” Vilkas choked out.

When Archer reached to cup his balls and slid a finger through the crevasse of his ass, Vilkas exploded. Sure enough, he cried out Archer’s name as he came, shooting sticky cum down the elf’s throat, surprised he swallowed it all. 

Vilkas grew weak as he came down from his orgasmic high, sliding down the wall until he sat his naked ass on the cold ground, uncaring that his breeches were still wrapped around his ankles. Archer leaned into him, kissing him. His tongue was salty with his seed and Vilkas liked it. Why did he like it? 

“That was… amazing,” Vilkas said when he trusted himself to speak again.

“The pleasure was all mine.”

He breathed out a laugh and kissed Archer again. He wanted more of this. In fact, he wanted him right now—to return the favor. The desire to taste the elf in return flooded his mind.

“Take off that armor now,” he ordered.

“As the Harbinger demands,” he quipped, stripping down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments are always appreciated and welcome!


	35. Her Priest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After being tormented by her horrible husband, Nazeem, Ahlam seeks to be in the arms of Acolyte Jenssen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this starts off with a bit of sadness. We all know what a dick Nazeem is and I really wanted to reflect that and give Ahalm a good reason to cheat on her husband.

Ahlam scrubbed the plates in the bucket of water of food from dinner in the kitchen. They ate their meal in silence like they did every night. Nazeem rarely talked to her anymore and when he did was full of scorn or hateful words. It brought meaning to the phrase ‘silence is deafening.’ She didn’t know when he changed. It was slow, or she was blind. Perhaps both. 

A stray curly lock fell in her face as she cleaned, using her shoulder to brush it back since her hands were wet. It wasn’t their silence or his indifference as much as it was all his flirtations with the other women in Whiterun. Ahlam knew Nazeem didn’t just go to Dragonsreach to talk to the Jarl but to engage with some prettier, younger women in town. It got to where he didn’t even care if she saw it or not. Was he trying to shove it in her face for a reason? Did he hate her that much? The tears welled in her eyes at the thought, but she refused to let them spill. He wasn’t worth her tears. He didn’t deserve them.

It was just yesterday as they walked through the market together as she headed towards the Temple of Kynareth, where she volunteers to help heal the wounded. Nazeem headed over to rub elbows with the Jarl, who, she was sure, ignored her husband. It was Carlotta who held his attention this time. Ahlam watched him pick up an apple and sniff it as he eyed the woman, not hiding his lust and that stupid smirk, staring at her breasts, as he tossed her apple in disgust, telling her it was rotten when it wasn’t. Did he really believe women enjoyed his scorn?

She choked back her tears as she rushed off to the temple. If she stayed, she would have gotten angry in front of everyone, then cried. He never took her seriously, especially if she dared shed a tear. 

_Fuck men!_ The Redguard woman was fed up with all of them, wishing she could divorce him, but she couldn’t afford it. She didn’t have a job, and all the money was tied under Nazeem’s name. She was only a volunteer at the temple.

“I’m going to the Bannered Mare,” Nazeem said, disrupting her frustrated thoughts as she washed the dishes.

“Since when have you cared enough to tell me what you were doing?” she spat, unable to control her irritation and hating herself for showing him her emotions. “Trying to rub your lustful thoughts of other women in my face again?” Ahlam bit her tongue, cursing herself for lashing out as she scrubbed, not looking at him. She hated his smug face. Nazeem was apathetic to her needs or feelings. He would not care, so why did she bother?

“Be spiteful, then. I’m doing you a favor so you don’t worry about me,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm, hearing the spiteful humor in his voice at her expense. 

“Lies.”

Her Redguard husband walked into the kitchen. Though she wasn’t looking at him, she could tell he was close, hovering, trying to intimidate. Then she felt his breath on her ear as he spoke.

“Fine, then. I am going to meet up with a woman prettier and younger than you,” he whispered, full of malice. Then reached and cupped her breast. “I’m going to suck her tits and lick her pretty pussy. Is that what you want to hear?”

“I hate you,” she whispered, shoving him off of her. She wanted to yell it to the rooftops, but she was too upset, unable to control her quivering lip. 

“The feeling is mutual.”

Ahlam jumped at the sound of the door slamming when left. She broke down and cried since she had the freedom to do so, but still angry at herself for letting him get to her like that. The entire scene drained her emotionally. When she finished washing the dishes, she dried her hands and went to bed. 

As she laid there, an arm tucked under her head, she thought about doing the same to him, flirting with men. But she couldn’t. It held no interest to her. Nazeem ruined men for her. She couldn’t trust them.

When she woke the next morning, she found the house empty. Nazeem never came home. More tears threatened, but she choked them back. He wasn’t worth her pain and tears. He was so bold now, uncaring that she knew he cheated on her. 

She was going to have to get a job and start earning some money. She needed to get out there. They had a lot of money, but Nazeem kept close count of it. If one single Septim was missing, he would know. If she could earn her own money and save it, she could find a home of her own. Maybe she could start her own farm. 

Ahlam braided her long curly black hair and sat down at her table, daring to look in her mirror. It didn’t surprise her to see how swollen her eyes were from the crying the night before. Her hand dipped into the bowl of fresh, cold water, grabbing the rag. She wrung out the excess and pressed the cold, damp cloth to her eyes. It would help with the swelling, but not enough. She had to get going.

Dawn just arrived, and it was foggy out as the warmer air of the morning collided with the colder air from earlier that evening. It made the land quiet and still as she rushed through the outskirts of town and made her way through the large gates of the city. She tried not to think of her husband. But there was hope, and a decision made. She couldn’t live like this any longer. 

Ahlam entered the temple and removed her cloak, hanging it up on a hook in the wall. He could tell she had been crying. Maybe not that morning, but the night before. Her swollen eyes looked like two competing emotions of sadness and anger. Something happened. Acolyte Jenssen knew that something was her asshole husband. That bastard Redguard treated her like shit. She never talked about it, but it took little deducing to figure it out. Nazeem was a fucking prick and a waste of oxygen. Jenssen hated thinking like that, being a child of peace, but dammit, she deserved more. Ahlam was so beautiful and kind. He loved her sweet face when she blessed him with a smile which wasn’t often, showing adorable dimples on each side.

Jenssen watched her as he healed a woman lying before him. He had healed so much, he could do it with hardly a thought, watching Ahlam tuck curls behind her ears that spilled out from her braid. He wanted to yank and pull on them. To pull her head back and lick her dark-skinned throat while cupping a plump breast with his free hand. _Take it down a notch, Jenssen. You don’t want to get hard in here._

How could a man like Nazeem not appreciate the woman she was? She was beautiful, curvy, sweet, kind, smart, thoughtful. All the things her husband was not. Maybe that’s why Nazeem despised his wife. The thought made Jenssen angry that she was stuck with that asshole. He could make her happy.

She caught him again. Acolyte Jenssen stared at her frequently, though he thought she didn’t notice. It was a good thing her skin was dark, otherwise, he would see her blushing and catch on that she noticed. Ahlam had to admit she liked the attention. It was more than her husband gave her. Thoughts of cheating on her husband spread through her, but she shut them down just as fast. Even if she wanted to, she didn’t need to get tangled up in another man. She couldn’t trust them. Not after Nazeem repeatedly cheated on her. He grew bolder and bolder because he knew she had nowhere else to go. There was nothing she could do about it.

It was the end of the day, and she was exhausted. Healing spells took a lot of energy, especially when casting them all day. After saying goodbye to everyone, she headed to the door and grabbed her cloak, draping it over her shoulders. Before she headed out the door, she felt someone grab her wrist. She looked down to find a male hand and as her eyes followed the arm to the shoulder and to the face. She saw Acolyte Jenssen looking down on her. _His eyes are filled with pity. Fuck his pity! I don’t need pity._

“What do you want?” she asked, feeling the tears well again, knowing he felt sorry for her.

“Wait for me. Let me walk you home,” he offered.

“Why?”

He shrugged as if he didn’t have a care in the world. “I just wanted some company today.” 

Ahlam shook her head. “Sorry, but I need to get home and start dinner.”

Jenssen watched her leave, feeling her sadness, wishing he could make it right, give her a little taste of happiness.

The next morning, Ahlam came in looking the same as she did the morning before. Her eyes swollen and filled with sadness, but as usual, masked it with her pretty smile. She was always ready and eager to help those in need. He hated to see her like this. He wanted her to smile because she was happy, not because she was forcing it out. Her pain was his. _Fuck it!_

Jenssen walked toward the beautiful Redguard with purpose. He had to talk to her before she began her day. He looked around to make sure everyone was busy and approached her. She turned her back to him when he grabbed her arm in his large hand, moving her to a corner of the temple where no one could see them.

The firm grip started Ahlam and being forced into the corner. She looked up at Jenssen, seeing his ice-blue eyes glued to hers. His brows were furrowed, angry. What did I do to him? Is this about not letting him walk me home?

“Jens—” she began.

With unexpected strength, he pressed her against the wall, feeling the heat of his breath in her ear. It sent chills through her body as a wave of goosebumps spread through her flesh. She could feel the taut muscle under his unassuming robes. It was unexpected and her body almost ground itself into him on reflex, but she held back with great restraint. 

“I’m done seeing you suffer. It’s fucking killing me,” he said. 

His voice was deep as it rumbled through her back with his chest pressed up against her. Ahlam’s breathing hitched and her heart raced at his words, trying to process their meaning. But her body was telling her the definition of them. 

“During lunch, you are going to meet me behind the temple. Do not make me wait,” he ordered.

Her body shuddered with his words. Despite their fierceness, they weren’t ones of aggression or anger. There was something deeper, lustful in his voice. She tried to turn around and look at him, but he already let her go and with a brush of his hand to her waist, he walked off.

Ahlam turned around to see Jenssen retreating to a patient. He stood before the woman lying down on the table, raised his arms as he let the tendrils of healing spill from his hands to the ill woman. It was the first time she saw him as something other than an Acolyte. No, he was still a man. What did he want from her? She couldn’t get mixed up with him despite how attractive he was. Nazeem was hard enough to deal with as it was.

She shook her head as her curly locks tossed around and drew her attention to the wounded man before her, pushing thoughts of Nazeem and Jenssen out of her head. 

It was getting late when Ahlam called it a day. She ate inside the temple for lunch after watching Jenssen slip out for his meal. She didn’t follow, despite how much she wanted to. Her cloak was hanging where she left it and draped it around her shoulders. When she walked out the door to head home, part of her hoped Jenssen would make her stop, but he didn’t. She didn’t know if she was relieved or regretful.

When she shoved her icy hands into the pockets of her cloak, she felt a crisp piece of parchment. Curious, she pulled it out and opened the folded paper.

_A,_

_You didn’t show. I am done seeing you in pain. I will wait for you each day behind the temple until you decide enough is enough. I can ease your pain._

_J_

Her heart fluttered, reading Jenssen’s words. She didn’t know what he could possibly do to ease her pain, but she knew it most likely involved an affair. Was she ready for that? Could she stoop to Nazeem’s level?

Ahlam took the note and threw it on the smoldering coals of the brazier, watching it catch fire. She didn’t want Nazeem to find it. When it was only ash, she walked home. 

As she passed the stables, she heard panting and groaning. It was clearly sexual in nature. Her stomach dropped at the sounds. For some reason, her instincts were screaming at her that the sounds were coming from Nazeem and another woman. It had been a long time she since had sex with her husband, but the sounds were familiar like an old book one read as a child. You remember the story, but not all the words.

Her heart thundered so hard in her chest it hurt as she crept behind the stables. When she peeked around the corner, there was Nazeem leaning against the building, his breeches around his ankles while Ysolda sucked him off. Ahlam knew Nazeem was cheating, but to see it firsthand, left a hole in her heart. Then the fact that Ysolda would stoop so low left her mind boggled and wondered if her husband paid the woman with promises of wealth and prestige.

She choked back a sob, refusing to give in to her tears this time. Never again would she cry over her husband. Those happier times were long forgotten. Ahlam ran home, slammed the door shut. As she leaned against the door, she tried to calm her heart. Perhaps she should have confronted him in the act, but what would be the point? Nazeem probably would have just laughed at her. He had grown cruel over the years. The more he gained in wealth, the worse he got. Gold bred indifference and greed.

Ahlam looked angry when she entered the temple, hanging her cloak to get ready for the day. Jenssen wondered what changed from the swollen, sad eyes to the fiery heat that burned in them. If he thought she was beautiful before, now she looked stunning. Her eyes glittered like sparks from a fire. It was then he was determined to get burned by them. He would not let her go.

When lunchtime arrived, Ahlam made up her mind as she headed towards the back of the temple. Before she rounded the corner, she paused. There was some doubt about cheating on her husband, but it was negligible. What was stopping her was the doubt he would be there. The sense of rejection was stronger than whether or not she was doing the right thing. Of course, it wasn’t right. She just didn’t care anymore.

She took a deep breath and pushed herself to take the steps needed to reach him. When she looked up, she saw him. Despite her heart drumming painfully in her chest, she could scarcely breathe. The tension released, seeing that he showed up. He was leaning against the stone wall, arms folded and legs crossed. His shoulder-length dark hair blowing in the breeze. The day was warm, but chills coursed through her at seeing him. He was so handsome and his gaze was intense. 

Her pace slowed as she reached him. Finally, standing before him, she was gripped with nervousness and could no longer look at him. She turned her face, biting her bottom lip as she crossed her arms.

Jenssen reached out and gently gripped her chin, pulling her face to look at him. “I’m done seeing you in pain, Ahlam. No more. It’s killing me.”

“Why do you even care?” she asked, tears threatening again, but she didn’t know why.

“Because I love you.”

Ahlam scoffed. 

Jenssen fisted his hands at his side, brows furrowed. “Believe me or not matters little. I know how I feel. I loved you the day you walked into the temple asking to learn to be a healer. Your warm and tender heart is nothing compared to your strength in what you have to endure every day with that piece of shit. I don’t know what he does to you in private, but I know the man he is. I know he makes you cry all the time. He hurts you and I want to hurt him back.”

“So that’s what this is about? Getting back at him?” she spat and walked away, but not before he grabbed her by the arm and shoved her against the building, pressing his hard body against her. Ahlam’s breathing was a near pant, gazing up at his intensity.

“Fuck Nazeem. This is about you,” he hissed, but his anger wasn’t directed at her. His face softened as he brushed back a fallen lock of her hair, tucking it behind her ear. His fingers dropped, trailing along her jaw and down to her neckline. “I want to make you happy, Ahlam. I know I can. If it’s just making love or you leaving him for me, I will take whatever you are willing to give.”

Before Ahlam could utter a word, he pressed his mouth to hers. It startled her at first, despite knowing his intentions. The kiss just made it a reality. It was hard, lips tense, but a swipe of his tongue on her lower lip and melted into him. His knife-like kiss became a delicate bloom as she opened up to him. Their tongues met in a tangled dance as she moaned in his mouth. When Jenssen pulled away, she felt bereft and cold. Her body shuddered, wanting more. Any guilt she may have had washed away with his passionate kiss.

Jenssen dropped to his knees, staring up at Ahlam. Her eyes widened, recognizing his intent. His hands reached the hem of her skirts and before he lifted them, he looked at her, making sure she wanted to go through with it. When she gave him a quick nod, he reached under her dress, pulling away her small-clothes. He let the fabric of her dress fall over him as he slid a finger into her core. She was already so wet. The muffled moan she let escape put a smile on his face. 

The flick of Jenssen’s tongue was electric, shooting through her entire body as she shuddered. It had been so very long since a man touched down there—years since Nazeem cared enough to do it. Her face burned with the flush that fueled her. The pressure built and pulsed around his thrusting fingers as he hit that spot deep inside. His tongue lashing out at her clit. It would have seemed cruel were it not so pleasing. Ahlam couldn’t remember the last time she had an orgasm, giving up on even pleasing herself with little desire to do so. Now, she could barely hold on. It was going to be quick with his relentless tongue. 

Her hand slapped her mouth, covering her scream as she exploded. The pressure and release was too great to hold anything back. Her body trembled as he attacked her clit and thrust his fingers. As she came down from her orgasm, he didn’t stop. His lips kissed her flesh as his fingers continued to tease and taunt. No. Again, another orgasm shot through her body. It would have shocked Ahlam were she not so delirious with lust and heat. 

When the last of her shudders subsided, Jenssen escaped the confines of her dress and stood. He pressed her against the wall, whispering, “Mine.” He kissed her again, his tongue darting into her mouth as he gripped her hair from behind. She could taste herself. It was like salted honey and she blushed at the naughtiness of it. 

“If you think we are done, you are sorely mistaken,” he groaned in her ear. 

Ahlam keened with the heat of his words, feeling a cool breeze along her legs as he lifted her skirts. Then she squealed when he lifted her and plunged his cock into her. He was thick, and it was tight, but the pleasure hit her like a hammer. She threw her head back, wrapping her legs around him as he pounded into her. He wasn’t gentle or delicate. This wasn’t lovemaking—it was fucking. 

Jenssen gripped the edge of her bodice, pulling it down to release a plump breast. He squeezed and lifted it to his lips. Ahlam looked down to watch his tongue twirling around her nipple. “By the divines,” she whispered. If she wasn’t wet before, she was flooding now. His veins popping out of his neck with strain and desire. Her sensitive nipples sent currents through her body and down to her core. 

“Fuck, Ahlam. You feel so fucking good,” he grunted as he picked up speed. Before she realized what was happening, he pulled out of her, eased her down, and grabbed his cock to finish in the grass.

Ahlam leaned against the wall, her chest rising and falling with each gasping breath as he tried to calm his heart. Jenssen had wanted to do that to her for so long, and now he finally got to. It was better than he ever imagined. 

Her eyes were as large as a startled deer, as if in shock or trying to grasp what had happened between them. Perhaps both. He grasped her shoulders and pulled her into him, holding her tight against his chest. Her head rested against him when he felt her body shuddering. It wasn’t until he heard her gasp that she was wracked with sobs. The last thing Jenssen wanted was to make her cry. His intention was to please her and make her happy, something she sorely deserved. 

“I’m sorry. I… I wanted to make you happy, Ahlam,” he whispered, letting her cry on him, feeling her tears soak through his robes. 

“I am happy. I haven’t felt like that in so long. Thank you, Jenssen,” she said, her voice hoarse from the sex and crying.

He held her tighter, kissing the top of her head. “It’s all I have ever wanted for you.”

Ahlam looked up at him as he wiped away her tears with his thumbs. Her pain killed him. “Leave him,” he blurted. 

“I… I can’t. He hordes the gold. I have nothing.”

“You have more than you think. You have me. He doesn’t deserve you and you do not deserve this pain he gives you. I will take care of you.”

Ahlam pushed him away, but it was gentle. “I can’t accept that. I appreciate it, but I can’t have another man taking care of me with nothing to my name.”

“I don’t spend much and have a lot of gold saved. I will help you get back on your feet. You can do what you want with it. Start a shop, a farm, it doesn’t matter. I will be there every step of the way. You can do this, Ahlam.”

“You would do that for me?”

“I would do anything for you. Leave him tonight, stay with me until you get back on your feet. I will not tie you down if you don’t want t. But I told you already. I will take whatever you are willing to give.”

Jenssen was still holding her face, watching her dark eyes filled with acceptance. He knew she would do it. 

“Fine, but you have to let me pay you back,” she said.

“If that’s what you want,” he agreed, but he would never accept that. They could talk more about that later.

While Nazeem was out flirting with the ladies at the Bannered Mare, Ahlam, with the help of Jenssen, packed up all her belongings and moved them to his modest home. Then they spent the entire night making love, agreeing to deal with Nazeem the next day.

The argument between Nazeem and Ahlam left her husband with a broken nose from Jenssen after he called her a whore. A week later, with secret threats of death from Jenssen, Nazeem agreed to a divorce, leaving Ahlam free to be with Jenssen and start her new life with the love she deserved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments are always welcome.


	36. Lording Over Her

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erdi is just a young servant who works in the Blue Palace. Falk Firebeard, the Steward, and Bolgeir Bearclaw, the Housecarl are intimidating and imposing men. Erdi hates them, but she also lusts after them. Little does she know how they feel about her until now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> F/M/M

I stand in front of the closed door with a bucket and cleaning supplies in my hands. I can hear voices behind the thick wood, not wanting to barge into the steward’s office. The voices are male. I know one is Falk Firebeard, the steward to Queen Elisif. The other I would know anywhere. Bolgeir Bearclaw, Elisif’s housecarl. They are arguing about something, but their voices are muffled. 

There’s a strange sensation filling me hearing his voice. It’s a toss-up between hatred for the man and lust. I hate fucking nobles. It’s as if gold gives them a right to treat others like shit. Because they work directly under the Queen, it makes them nobles, though they have no family wealth of their own. There is no old money.

Bolgeir can be cruel sometimes. Nothing but a bully. But when no one is around, I catch him watching me as I clean. I can see the lust in his gorgeous cerulean eyes. He rubs his red scruff on his chin thoughtfully as he stares. If he wants me, why is he cruel? He calls me ‘little mouse’ in front of others. _“Go scurry away, little mouse. Stop being underfoot.”_ Granted, I’m not a large woman. I’m petite and thin. When I rush off, I can hear others laughing behind my back. It’s humiliating.

Falk Firebeard isn’t much better, but he is quiet, stoic. His eyes are cruel when he looks at me, but he never speaks. He makes me more nervous than Bolgeir. Perhaps because he says nothing other than to stare. Sometimes I feel like his eyes penetrate my very soul like he knows my deepest and darkest secrets. I tried once to stare him down, but he never wavered. I shudder at the memory. 

Both men are stunning and both are red-heads. I have a thing for red hair. They are out of my reach, though. I am nothing but a lowly servant. Servants don’t get nobles or get rich. Servants remain servants until the day they die. And I hate being a servant, but I should feel appreciative to have a position at the Blue Palace. Not everyone is good enough to work there. I am. I may be young, but I’ve been a servant as soon as I could walk. It’s all I have ever known. I wish I could escape it, though. I love to sing and wish I could apply to the Bard’s College, but I don’t have the gold. So I am stuck cleaning after the nobles.

I guess they don’t hear me, so I knock again. I would go clean somewhere else, but this is the last room of the day before I go home, unable to leave until I finish. 

Instead of telling me to come in, I hear grumbling, a chair scraping on wood floors, and heavy footsteps approaching. The door opens brusquely and standing before me, looking down, is Falk. His cruel green eyes stare at me in silence. My stomach forms knots, afraid to speak. It isn’t just his coldness, but his beauty. My heart flutters at the sight of him. His cropped red hair is combed back and his beard thick on his chin. I wonder sometimes what his whiskers would feel like between my legs. Hey, I can hate and still lust. I’m only human. I have no control over what my body wants compared to my brain.

“What?” he finally grinds out.

“I… can I clean your office, sir? This is the last room I have to finish before I go home.”

“No,” he says, shutting the door in my face.

Before I can get upset, I hear Bolgeir telling him to let me in and do my job. “Let the little mouse in and clean. I enjoy watching her scurry about on her hands and knees.”

My face flushes hot. I can tell he’s trying to be inappropriate with me. He does enjoy his petty torments at my expense, making me constantly embarrassed. It doesn’t take much to make me blush. I am not a pushover, but I may not speak out or stand up for myself if I don’t want to be fired. I need this job.

“Whatever,” Falk mumbles and walks back to his desk, leaving me to close the door behind me and walk into the cool room. It works as both his office and where he sleeps at night. It’s surprisingly inviting, despite his cold disposition. There is no fire, which is good, so I can set about cleaning it. I will light a fire before I leave.

The men are talking about a cave that has some strange goings-on, deciding what to do about it. I ignore them, plopping my cleaning supplies down on the ground. Picking up my feather duster, I set about the room dusting artifacts, books, shelves, and tables. Falk’s desk is the last thing I dust off. When I take my duster to it, he grabs my wrist. It is tight, and it hurts a bit. I dare look down at him, wondering what I did wrong. His emerald eyes stare back, brows furrowed, but he says nothing. His hand loosens on my wrist, but he doesn’t let go. I wish he would stop staring. He makes me nervous. My heart thunders in my chest like a ranging drum, and I’m nearly deafened by it as my eyes glance down between his legs because I can’t help myself. My body just lusts for these men and I don’t know why. I look away quickly, trying to remove my wrist from his grasp, seeing he is hard. It is easy to notice the bulge inside his breeches.

He abruptly lets go and I stumble back in surprise right into Bolgeir’s lap. “Careful, little mouse,” he laughs, giving me a squeeze, but then he straightens me back up and I rush back to my cleaning supplies to continue with my duties, pretending I didn’t see the steward’s erection or feel Bolgeir’s hands on my body. I try not to ask why, but I can’t help but wonder if it was me or Bolgeir that caused his hardness. No, why would he be interested in me? I’m just a small and insignificant servant girl. 

I can tell my face is red as a beet, so I avoid looking at them, focusing on my cleaning. I don’t know what set off Falk. Was I not supposed to clean off his desk? 

The two men grow silent, and I can’t help but wonder if they are watching me. It feels like they are, but I don’t dare look over, afraid of what I will see. 

I grab my broom and begin sweeping the floor. The only sounds I can hear are those made by the straw bristles brushing against the wood. Dust motes stir in the waning light shining in the windows. Why are they not talking? If they are finished with their discussion, why doesn’t Bolgeir leave back to his own room? I can feel eyes on me as my skin prickles with goosebumps. I don’t know if I like it or if it’s unnerving. Perhaps both. I can’t for the life of me figure out what could hold their interest for so long in me. Maybe they are thinking of ways to torment me. I bristle at the thought but say nothing. _Keep your job, Erdi. That is what’s important._

Before I mop, I must clean out the hearth of ash and old burned wood. I take the ash pail and small shovel sitting next to the hearth and get down on my hands and knees as I scrape away old ash, dumping it in the pail. My mind wanders to inappropriate thoughts. Again, my body doesn’t care why it wants. It just does. I think about taking the two men at once. They strip me down, my breasts spill out my threadbare dress as Falk sucks my nipples while Bolgeir reaches between my legs, slipping a finger inside my core. My body trembles at the thought, and I hope the men don’t notice. Again, my face flushes as I curse. It’s like I have no control over my body at all, despite how much my brain protests. My small-clothes grow damp with naughty thoughts of the two nobles who would want no one as insignificant as me. I feel safe in my fantasies. The men can’t read minds despite their penetrating stares, as if they very well could.

When I am finished, soot covers my hands. I wipe them clean on my apron, then stand and pick up the pail of ash. I need to empty it before I finish the room. When I turn, I drop the bucket as ash spills all over the floor as my heart hammers. Standing in front of me is Bolgeir. His smile would be soft and kind were it not for his harsh, cold eyes. His bright blue gaze turns down towards my throat, watching me swallow away my nerves while his hands grasp my arms to steady me. The grip is tight as fingers dig into my flesh, but it doesn’t hurt. 

“You’re a jittery thing, little mouse, aren’t you?” he asks.

“Because you are doing it on purpose. You enjoy your torments,” I spat, but my eyes opened wide. I wasn’t supposed to say that out loud and I cover my mouth with my hand as if I can just swallow my harsh words, hoping I’m not fired now. I look over at Falk, but I can’t get a read on him. He is watching our interaction with narrowed eyes, one leg folded on a knee as his elbows rest on his thighs. His fingers are steepled under his chin. I wonder what he thinks, but maybe I don’t want to know.

It’s Bolgeir’s harsh laugh that brings me back to him. “I apologize,” I say, though it probably won’t do me much good, not daring to look at him. The housecarl hasn’t removed his hands yet, but his grip isn’t as tight. 

“Apologize? It’s the first time you have stood up for yourself to me. I like it. The little mouse has a bite,” he chuckles.

The man was irritating, no matter how handsome he was. “I have a name!”

“I know, Erdi. But ‘little mouse’ suits you.”

I still don’t look at him, afraid to. I don’t want to know what is in his eyes. 

One of Bolgeir’s hands slides up my arm, neck, and into my hair. A thumb trails along my cheek, wiping away some soot. “Just so you know, I like little mice. They are soft, cute, playful as they scurry about.” What does that mean? Is he saying he likes me? That he finds me cute? Why is he touching me like that?

I am growing bold. In part I am angry, but I feel this burning deep inside for my tormentor. I try not to close my eyes to his touch, forcing myself to look up at him. “Is that so? Then why are you so cruel.”

His smile showed perfectly white and straight teeth. Teeth only money could buy. “So you will look at me just as you are. So full of anger that you are willing to stand up for yourself against the likes of me. I’m tired of everyone bowing down to me as if I am worth anything.”

“Oh, how I have wanted to, but I like my job.”

“Do you now? I doubt that.”

“It pays my bills,” I counter.

“Fair enough.”

“What’s your friend’s excuse,” I ask, not daring to look at Falk. I don’t know what he is thinking about this little dance between Bolgeir and me. Then again, I can never tell what he thinks, for he rarely speaks unless it’s issuing orders or advise Elisif. Everything he says has a purpose.

Bolgeir turns to Falk, his smile never wavering. “What do you think, Falk? Do you find our little mouse here adorable with her angry little mouth as much as I do?”

When Falk continues to stare, not acknowledging his friend, Bolgeir turns back to me and shrugs. “I think he likes you too.”

I scoff at the ridiculous notion, still not looking at the steward. The housecarl moves his hand to lick his thumb, then rubs the wetness across my cheek. “Dirt,” he says. The touch burns my skin, fuels the heat between my legs. My heart picks up a notch in speed, making it harder to breathe. I hope he doesn’t notice. 

“Do you like me touching you?” he asks. Of course, he notices. _Dammit_.

“No,” I say, but I know it’s not very convincing. I want to be touched and have his burning hands all over my body. I want both of their hands caressing my flesh. To feel the heat spread like wildfire, touching me in places I only dream about. I quickly shut the thoughts down so my lust isn’t apparent. I shouldn’t want them, but I do. It can’t be helped.

Bolgeir’s laugh booms throughout the large room. I am not sure what he finds so funny, other than perhaps he doesn’t believe me. I wouldn’t believe me either. He leans in and I can feel his strong fingers wrapping around my dark hair. His fingers are like daggers, digging into my skull, but they don’t hurt. They only serve to make me yearn for them to pull harder. I can feel his breath near my ear as my breathing hitches. “I can smell your arousal. Don’t lie to me, little mouse. I don’t like being lied to,” he whispers. How can his deep voice be so arousing yet menacing at the same time?

“I like it,” I blurt, slamming my eyes closed. I feel humiliated at the admission. I don’t know what will happen to me now that I snapped at him and admitted my lustful thoughts. It surprises me that the two men haven’t kicked me to the curb yet.

I can almost feel his smile against my skin. “I think our steward friend likes it too,” he says, nuzzling his face against my throat. My eyes dared look over to see what Falk was doing. His body had not moved since the last time I looked at him, but now his eyes were dark and filled with heat. Bolgeir is right. Falk is enjoying watching us.

My eyes close as lustful fantasies plague my thoughts. Groping hands, pulling fabric, pinching flesh, tongues trailing through my—

The kiss shocks me back to reality. His lips are surprisingly soft and gentle as his tongue probes in my mouth. It stuns me into inaction, unsure what to do. Is he just teasing me in his torment, or does he want me to return the kiss? When I look at him as we press together our lips, he is not watching me, but Falk. His eyes gleaming with mischief. Perhaps he’s teasing the other man instead. I throw caution to the wind, grab Bolgeir’s face with my dirty hands as our tongues dance. His bright blue eyes are back on mine, wide at my reaction, but soften as they close. I enjoy feeling his rough scruff under my calloused hands as our tongues explore. It feels gritty and rough, like how naughty I feel right now. Will they fire me over this? Probably, but I’m beyond caring now. My want is greater than my fear. That’s the problem with lust, isn’t it? You do things you wouldn’t normally do. You take risks and act impulsively to get what you want. Pleasure is a potent driving force. When it’s over and reality sets in, is when the mind takes over and is plagued by guilt, soured with regret. For now, he is all I want.

As our kiss deepens, I inhale his warm flesh. It smells of vetiver and cedar. It’s heady and I want to lick his skin, to taste his scent on my tongue. I groan in his mouth, as his hand grips my hair painfully so. My head is yanked back as he runs his tongue across my throat, very much as I wanted to do to him. I can’t taste good after cleaning all day, but Bolgeir doesn’t seem to care.

My eyes widen at the sight before me, looking over at Falk as the housecarl nibbles my neck. The steward is palming between his legs as he watches us. His eyes are unchanged, except their green depths are darkened with lust. My vision grows dark from closing my eyes as Bolgeir takes a breast in his hand, kneading like some misshapen bread dough, willing it to comply with strong fingers. 

I wish I could figure out what happened from me cleaning to now standing here in the steward’s room while the housecarl touches my body and kisses me as if he means it. As if he really cares about me. I know that’s a lie, but a girl can pretend she’s wanted and desired by a gorgeous man. 

A gasp escapes me when I feel fingers untie my bodice with a couple of tugs and pulls out a plump breast. He still has a firm grip on my hair as he bends down and takes a breast in his mouth. I let him as a shiver courses through my body and makes my cunt ache with want. I throw all caution to the wind as I let Bolgeir do what he wants with me. 

“Fuck, little mouse! You have gorgeous tits,” he whispers with a mouth full of soft flesh.

I think I hear a strangled noise from Falk, but I’m too distracted by Bolgeir’s tongue as it swirls and flicks on my nipple. They are hard as rocks now, sensitive. His licks spread through my body, filling me with need. A need to have him inside me. I keep telling myself I’m going to regret this later, but as I said, my body doesn’t give a shit what my mind says. They are at war with each other.

There is a presence behind me. I can feel it. Looking over at Falk, I see he is no longer there behind his desk watching. A firm grip on my shoulders has me turning around. I am face to face with Falk. His sharp green eyes are boring into my soul and I want to collapse under them. I might have, were it not for the two men holding on to me. As if he can stand it no longer, he presses his mouth to mine. His lips are like shards of glass—hard and stabbing as if he is angry about letting go of his control and giving in to this want. Long, strong fingers claw at my face as he pulls me tighter into our kiss. His tongue forces its way into my mouth, but I give into him. The kiss isn’t pleasant, but it’s filled with unwanted need. I know how strange that sounds, but I can’t describe it any other way. Like he doesn’t want to be kissing me, yet he can’t stop himself.

Bolgeir is kissing and licking the side of my neck as I kiss Falk. He slides down my dress off my shoulders. Pulling back my arms behind me, pinning them between powerful hands, which force my breasts out as I throw my head back onto his chest. I am bereft of Falk’s sharp mouth. The steward’s eyes are now focused on my large tits. I watch him reach out with shaking hands to touch them. He’s so resistant to touching me, yet he doesn’t stop himself. Perhaps his mind and body are feuding like mine. Falk is gentle as he caresses them, which is a contrast to his kiss.

“They’re nice, aren’t they?” Bolgeir asks his friend, who only grunts an acknowledgment. 

“He’s wanted you for some time now. Pining for you from afar,” the housecarl whispers in my ear, sending waves of goosebumps down my arm.

“Why?” I ask for the first time since they started to touch me. 

“I don’t think you realize how gorgeous you are, even when you’re covered in soot. We watch you on your hands and knees, scrubbing floors, imagining the things we do to you.”

I close my eyes, feeling gentle fingers exploring my breasts as I sense Bolgeir’s rapid heartbeat against me, knowing my heart matches his, if not faster. I should be repulsed by two men touching me, especially two nobles and a servant girl, knowing it’s inappropriate, but I want it. 

Falk lets go of more restraint as I look down to see him taking a nipple in his mouth. Watching this stoic man give into his lustful desires, ravishing my breast with his tongue, has my body aching. I want to ask them to fuck me, but I’m too afraid. I don’t want to break whatever spell that is happening between the three of us.

“Do you like us touching you like this?” Bolgeir the Bolder asked. 

“Yes,” I moan. I don’t dare lie. Bolgeir doesn’t like liars. Plus, I want more. So much more. If I say no, they may stop. I don’t want them to ever stop. If they do, it will fill me with regret and I only want to be filled with desire and pleasure. 

“Have two men ever touched you at the same time like this?”

“No,” is all I can say. My small-clothes are soaked and his words were making it worse. I just want the men to rip them off and take me already.

“You like it. I can tell. I can smell your arousal. You want more, don’t you?”

I look down again to see Falk still sucking my tit, but he’s looking up at me. His emerald eyes are now more curious than hard as he surrenders to his desires. He wants to know what I think, waiting on my reply.

“Yes, I want more.”

“What do you want?” the housecarl asks in my ear. “I want you to say it.”

I close my eyes and swallow away my fears. I don’t normally tell men my wants. Perhaps that’s why I’ve been plagued with horrible lovers. I used to think they were selfish, but maybe it was because I never told them what I really wanted, not giving them a chance to try. A moan escapes me from embarrassment, choking on my pride. “I want you to fuck me,” I croaked.

“Good girl,” he says. I can’t see his face, but I know he’s grinning. 

Falk attacks my breast with more aggression and confidence with my words as Bolgeir lifts the skirts of my dress, exposing my small-clothes. The steward stops what he’s doing and kneels down in front of me. I wonder if Bolgeir started this more for Falk’s benefit rather than his. Though I have no doubt Bolgeir will not pass up the opportunity to take me now that I admitted my wants.

The kneeling man plants his face between my legs and inhales, letting a groan escape his mouth. Then he digs his sharp fingers between my hips and small-clothes, peeling them away and down my legs. My cunt is now exposed to the man. He slips off my boots then removes my undergarments, tossing them all to the side. Then he stands, watching me. His eyes are nearly blank again. I know I’m blushing at my exposure, but I don’t move. Besides, Bolgeir has a firm grip on me, holding my arms tight while keeping my skirts lifted.

Falk methodically removes all his clothes, folding them neatly and placing them on a chair. He is standing now, naked and unafraid. His body is firm with defined muscle as my eyes travel downward to the v-shape around his lower half, then between his legs. I can’t peel away my gaze from his cock. It’s so large, wondering if it will hurt to have him in me, but I want it. He’s stroking it as if he needs it harder than it already is. I’m not sure it’s possible. It looks like flesh-covered steel.

Fingers loosen around me as Bolgeir lets me go. My dress falls off me and pools around my ankles. I am naked now as I step out of my dress on the floor. Part of me wants to cover up my most private parts, but I don’t. If I do, they will pull my hands away. I know it. 

I watch as the housecarl gets undressed similarly to Falk. Once his clothes are folded neatly away, he too is stroking himself. His cock is nearly as big. I swallow the lump in my throat. It’s a combination of nerves and greed for their bodies to use me. Is it wrong for me to want to be used by these two men? I don’t care at the moment. 

My hands shake as the housecarl walks towards me. He kissing me again, holding my face in his hands as if I was an actual lover and not about to be their fuck toy. 

“On your hands and knees,” he ordered when he pulled away from the kiss.

I do as I am told, looking down at the wood floors I recently swept up. There are spots of wetness from me dripping down my thighs. I get lost in the pattern of drops, distracting myself that I am utterly exposed to these men in the most vulnerable way. I love it, but I am afraid to look at them.

“Do you think you can handle the two of us?” Bolgeir asks. Falk remains quiet. He has yet to utter a word about any of this, using his body and mouth to do the talking for him.

“I… I think so,” I squeaked out, still trying to be honest.

I hear him chuckling at me. I don’t know if he’s trying to be cruel or if he actually found my words humorous. 

“Falk and I always enjoy watching you on your hands and knees, imagining how you look doing it naked. Now that we see it, it’s even better than we imagined. You have a beautiful body, little mouse. Doesn’t she, Falk?” The steward grunts, but says little. 

I feel the firm hands of Bolgeir gripping my hips. Then a finger slides through my dripping folds, moving my hips against him. I don’t mean to groan, but it slips out so loudly the housecarl chuckles at me again. “So wet and needy,” he whispers.

As he grabs my hips again, I can feel the gentle nudging of the tip of his cock between my folds. Then a forceful thrust. I cry out from the combination of pleasure and pain. “Shit, little mouse. You are tight and hot,” he grunted and began his slow thrusts. As I stretch to accommodate his size, grateful I am so wet, the pain eases and pleasure takes over. His fingers dig into the flesh of my hips as he pulls me back into him. I will probably get bruises from it, but I enjoy being marked by him as if he wants a visual of ownership. For now, I am his. I don’t mind. I like to be wanted because Bolgeir and Falk are also mine, even if it’s temporary.

“Do it,” he orders. I don’t know if the housecarl is talking to me or Falk. But it must be Falk who ambles towards me, swollen cock in his stroking hand. A hard tug of my hair yanks my head up and arches my back. I am now forced to look at Falk as he gets closer with his monster cock. I know what he’s going to do and I’m slightly afraid. It is too big for my mouth, but I still want it. I want to taste him and have him fill my mouth with his come. 

The steward doesn’t have to pry my mouth open. My lips are already parted and welcoming. He slides it slowly in and closes his eyes at the sensation. His cock is hot against my tongue and I can taste the salty pre-ejac. 

“Don’t you make a pretty sight,” Bolgeir states. I visualize what he is seeing. He’s fucking me from behind, my head forced back as he yanks on my hair, a large cock thrusting in and out of my mouth. I should be humiliated, but I’m not. I want more. 

When Falk pulls out, he takes over the hair pulling. I use my tongue to reach out to his warm, veiny flesh. I want to taste him so much it’s painful. The man obliges as I trace from the underside of his cock to the tip, swirling my tongue around his slit. Falk hisses and thrusts back into my mouth. 

“Do you like this, little mouse?”

All I can do is grunt as I choke on Falk’s cock. The man pulls out long enough for me to answer. “Yes,” I say. “Harder, faster.”

“As you wish.”

Bolgeir grips my flesh even tighter as he slams into me like an animal. He grunted like one too. I would have laughed, were my mouth not full with delicious Falk cock. Where the housecarl was brutal, Falk was surprisingly gentle, cupping my face in his hands as he thrust into my mouth, careful not to choke me too much.

The man behind me was the first to come, pulling out. I can feel the hot, ropey come land on my back and ass. I love it and enjoy hearing his moans. But Bolgeir isn’t finished. As Falk moves faster, close to coming himself, I feel fingers reach between my legs. The housecarl slips three fingers inside of me as he thrusts, while fingers on his other hand dance around my clit. My body shudders at the sensation. My cunt is bruised and achy from his large cock in me and from still needing a release. It pleases me that he tries. I didn’t think he cared enough.

The orgasm hits fast and hard. My moans with Falk in my mouth leaves the man gasping. “Fuck,” he groans, surprising me he uttered a word at all. Soon my mouth is filled with his hot and salty seed. I swallow and lap it up as if it could satiate my hunger. 

I collapse on the cold wood floor, puddled with sex and sweat. I’m exhausted now. It’s been a long day of cleaning, starting early morning and ending up being fucked by two gorgeous men into the early evening. A cold, wet rag caresses my back as Bolgeir cleans his seed off of my skin. It’s a thoughtful and unexpected gesture.

Now that it is over, the thoughts of regret hit me. I was expecting it, yet I went through it, anyway. They will kick me out and torment me again. This time, they had their way with me and will probably use it against me. I care, but I also don’t. Would I do it again? Probably. My regret isn’t strong enough to deter me. Though it won’t happen again. These two men got what they wanted.

I’m so tired as my head rests on my arm on the floor. I hear moving about in the room, but I just lay there as my eyes close, expecting to hear orders for me to get dressed and leave, but the two men are silent. It’s not a surprise for Falk to be quiet, but even Bolgeir wasn’t saying anything. I’m too exhausted to care.

I feel powerful arms pull me off the floor and lift me into them. My body is pressed against a warm chest. I crack my sleepy eyes open to see Bolgeir smiling down at me. “Time for sleep, little mouse,” he murmurs and lays me gently down on the plush bed that only nobles can afford. I want to scramble away and run, afraid I am going to get in trouble, but I’m dead weight, numb, and unable to move. 

As my eyes close in the warm comfort of the bed, I feel the men getting into bed with me. There are lips pressed against my temple and an arm draping around my stomach. 

“You are ours, little mouse,” I think I hear. I don’t open my eyes as darkness consumes me, falling asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Please share your thoughts in the comments <3


	37. Dumped Bride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Diana is left at the altar by her fiance of two years. What better way to temporarily erase the bad day by getting drunk then later finds herself in the arms of another. Sometimes revenge sex is all someone needs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just in time for Valentine's Day!
> 
> Marcurio and Original Female Character.

Why did the Temple of Mara have to be in one of the most criminally filled cities in Skyrim, she wondered as she stood in front of the doors to the temple? Diana didn’t know how long she stood there as her stomach flipped painfully and her stomach roiled with nausea, about to vomit her heart right there on the grass. She choked it back, not wanting to get sick on her beautiful dress she spent months sewing. She’d been waiting for this day for two years, realizing how lucky she was to find Marcus. It was genuine love, which was a rarity in these lands. Diana took a deep breath, adjusted the flowers crowning her black hair, and walked into the temple.

Inside, it was warm and inviting. The priests took special care to add flowers in vases everywhere, and candles added a warm glow. The temple was empty other than the priests, with one Redguard waiting by the altar for her and her future husband. Diana had no family left thanks to the war and her friends weren’t able to make it, so she was alone except for when Marcus showed up. He wrote to her two months ago while he was traveling to Windhelm for business, telling her to meet him in Riften at the Temple of Mara. So she packed her bag, along with her dress with visions of finally being married to Marcus Fabricius, a tall, broad, handsome Imperial.

Her nerves didn’t settle at not seeing Marcus waiting for her. _He’s just late, that’s all. He will be here_. She took a deep breath and sat in one of the pews to wait.

“I am Maramal. You must be Diana,” said the Redguard priest.

“I am,” she replied, giving him a small smile.

“Are you nervous? You seem nervous.”

The Imperial woman chuckled and nodded. “Yes, but he’s the one. It’s only the rest of my life, you know?”

“Indeed, I do. But love makes life that much better, wouldn’t you say?”

“Yes, and I love him. I… just hope he gets here soon. I’m ready.”

Maramal smiled at the nervous woman but said nothing else as they waited.

“So, uh… you’ve been doing this long?” she asked.

“Doing what?”

“Uhm, priesting?”

Maramal laughed. “That's not a word, but I’ve been conducting wedding ceremonies for a few years.”

“Ah.”

 _Where is he?_ Diana sat there looking around the temple, anywhere else other than the Redguard looking at her, fidgeting with her fingers and tapping her foot so fast she was going to burn through the wood flooring. _I got the right day, didn’t I?_ She turned to stare back at the door as if Marcus would walk through as soon as she did.

After an hour, Diana was wearing a hole into the floorboards with her rapid pacing. She was trying not to cry, but a few slipped down her face anyway, refusing to obey the orders of her brain. She swiped them away as if they never existed. _I’m going to fucking kill him!_

“Are you sure you got the right day?” Maramal asked.

“You got the letter, right?” she snapped, then looked at him, hoping it showed she was sorry.

“Yes, I did,” he sighed, worried for the poor bride. “Perhaps… you would like to wait at the Bee and Barb? He might be tied up with something. Then when he shows, you both can come back. My time is fairly open. There aren’t a lot of weddings.”

Diana stopped in her tracks and her face did that weird contortion thing to keep from crying. She called it her ugly face. She knew she was doing it when Maramal winced, looking at her. Then she took a deep breath and nodded. “Right. He’s just late. That’s it.” _Maybe cannibals captured him and ate his fucking heart._ “Uhm… I guess I will be back with him,” she said with more hope than she felt as she walked out the door. _Or not._

She was gutted. Someone just took a rusty spoon and scooped out her insides. That’s what she felt like. After two years, how could Marcus just leave her waiting at the altar? There were stories about people being abandoned that way, never dreaming she would be one of them. Nothing was more embarrassing. It was like taking an accidental crap in front of a public marketplace and having everyone stare at you in pity and humor. 

When Diana stepped outside, the weather turned ugly. It wasn’t just raining, but sleeting. _Because of course, it is. Why wouldn’t the weather turn as foul as my mood_? As she walked down the steps back to her room at the Bee and Barb, there was a cloaked man standing there. When he looked up and removed his hood to show a shock of black hair dripping wet from the weather. _Marcus, thank the gods. He was just late._

“Marcus! I’m so happy you’re okay. I was… worried about you.” _Lies. You thought he abandoned you._

“Diana. I’m… so sorry—”

“No, don’t be. There’s still time. We can go ask the priest if he can still do the ceremony,” she said as all her worries washed away in the rain.

When she reached him, she stopped in her tracks when Marcus shrank back. The look on his face was riddled with guilt. Her eyes welled up with tears, seeing the truth of things. He wasn’t there to marry her. He was there to tell her it was off.

“I’m sorry. I just can’t—”

“Can’t what? Marry me? You dragged me all the way to Riften, closing my shop for a week, and _now_ you tell me you can’t marry me? Is that what you’re saying? You couldn’t have told me beforehand?” she screamed.

“I… I… please, listen. I know it looks bad. It is bad. I thought I would be able to do it, but… I can’t. I can’t marry you.”

“Why the fuck not? I’ve wasted two years of my life just for you to abandon me?”

“I know. I’m sorry,” he said. It was lame, and he knew it. There was no excuse.

“So you’ve fucking said! Why, Marcus? Why? I thought you loved me.”

“I do… did. There’s… someone else.”

Yep, she was going to vomit her heart along with the rest of her insides. Rusty spoon type of gutting. _Some else._ The words echoed in her head. She wanted to cry. She preferred it, but she was angry. Furious. 

“And you weren’t able to tell me before I got here? You should have warned me! I hate you for cheating on me, but no, you couldn’t have just cheated me. You had to abandon me on our wedding day. Why did you fucking bother!” she yelled, pacing back and forth, hands fisted at her side. It was either that or rip off his testicles.

“I know… I thought if we got married, it would make me not love the other woman since you and I invested so much of our lives together. I thought…” At least he had the decency to look guilty. 

Diana walked up close to him and he looked up with pleading eyes that she forgave him. But she didn’t. He humiliated her. The crack to his face with her hand echoed through the silent town as it sleeted. Diana wasn’t able to tell if she was shivering from the ice forming on her body or from her anger and hurt. “You wasted piece of shit. I hate you.”

She didn’t know what else to say and stormed off, unable to breathe. His firm hand grasped her arm and that simple touch set her off. Diana reeled on him with fists, pounding into his chest, shouting how much she hated him. Then one of her fists met with his nose. As soon as he was dripping blood, she stood there shaking her head and her hand in pain, letting the tears spill. “Don’t you ever come near me again! I feel sorry for the woman you’re with now.” This time Marcus let her go. 

Diana barged through the doors of the Bee and Barb, shivering and wet. She probably looked like a stray dog that had been kicked around too much, but she didn’t care as she headed straight to the bar. It was before lunch, but she needed a drink stat. 

“Give me the strongest you got,” she ordered the Argonian woman.

“A little early, isn’t it?”

“Is this the face of someone who cares?” Diana asked, then looked down at the counter, dripping water all over it. “Sorry. It’s been a… rough morning.”

The Argonian woman nodded, grabbed a mug, and poured some amber liquid into it. “I’m Keevara. Let me know if you need anything else… like food.”

Diana wasn’t much of a drinker, lifting the mug and sniffing its contents. The alcohol nearly singed her nose hairs. She was practically drunk on the odor alone. She tipped her head back and chugged the entire contents of the drink, slamming her mug on the counter as she coughed and hacked as the liquid burn went down. 

“Smooth,” she croaked.

Keevara cackled, “It’s not. Another?”

Diana nodded and downed the second one as fast as the first. It felt like she was literally drinking fire, but the first one must have numbed things because it wasn’t as bad the second time around. “Another.”

“Judging by your dress, I’m assuming you were about to get married. Did the bastard stand you up?”

“Well, aren’t you the observant one,” she spat. “Ugh. Sorry. I’m not normally this bitchy. Yeah, the bastard left me hanging. Wasted two years of my fucking life. Nothing like making a girl feel fucking wanted.”

Keevara chuckled and poured the poor woman another drink. As long as she was paying, she didn’t care. She knew the woman had a room at the inn, so she wasn’t in any danger other than falling off her stool.

The mercenary rubbed his eyes and yawned as he headed downstairs for lunch and waited for his next meal ticket. He stayed up way too late the night before, so he slept in. It wasn’t as if jobs were falling in his lap. When he sat down at a table, Keevara brought him some much-needed water and food. At least his head wasn’t pounding this time. As he shoveled some eggs in his mouth, he looked at the bar, surprised to see a drunk woman resting her head on her arms. She was wearing a wedding dress and judging by her bedraggled appearance, he assumed she was jilted.

When he finished eating, Keevara came over to remove his empty plate and mug.

“What’s with the woman who’s melted on your bar?” he asked.

Keevara tsked, “Poor woman was stood up at the Temple of Mara.”

“I thought as much. Sounds pretty cruel for someone to do that.”

“Yeah. She’s drowning her sorrows in alcohol and self-pity. I’m not sure she’s much of a drinker because, after three of them, she’s ready to pass out.”

“Does she have a room here?” the Imperial asked.

“Yeah. It’s probably time she slept it off. I don’t think she can take another drink and I’m not in the mood to clean up vomit.”

“Who’s ever in the mood for that?”

Keevara cackled. “No one that I can recall. Say, do you have any jobs today?”

“Can’t say I do.”

“I’ll give you fifty Septims if you bring her up to her room.”

“Easiest coin I ever made. You got yourself a deal,” he said, standing up to approach the woman draped over the bar.

When Marcurio approached the slumped over woman, he thought she was passed out, but she was still awake, mumbling to herself. He touched her shoulder to find her dress soaked through and her long, black wet hair spread out over the counter and her arms. 

He gently shook her to get her attention. “Hey. Let’s go. Time for night night”

The woman shrugged his hand off. “Leave me alone. If you’re a man, go eat your own balls.”

Marcurio chuckled. He hardly blamed her for being angry. “That doesn’t sound very appetizing.”

“Har har,” she said, lifting her head, taking another sip from her empty mug. When she slammed it on the counter, she asked for another.

“I think you’ve had enough. I’ve been asked to take you to your room.”

When she looked at him, a scowl reached her face as she looked him up and down. He held his breath, seeing her. Despite her disastrous hair, wet and angry, her eyes were stunning. They were a bright cerulean blue. Even brighter against her dark skin. 

“Well, issnt zat juss fuckin’ great. Another Zimperial,” she groused.

“As are you.”

“Yeah? So? I didn’t leave _you_ at zah altar, did I?”

“Just to clarify things, I didn’t leave you either.”

“Oh, buz you would. You men wan and wan. Assoon azyou get it, you zrop us like dirzy socks. Zen you run off to find gren.. gran… greener grass.”

Marcurio tried not to laugh. He was sorry for her, but she was kind of funny in her inebriated state. “You look nothing like a dirty sock.”

“ _Like_ dirzy socks, not _look_ like dirzy socks… sheesh,” she slurred, brushing hair out of her face.

“I stand corrected,” he chuckled, gently grabbing her arm. “Come on. Let’s get you back to your room.”

“Who arz you anyway?”

“The name is Marcurio. I’m a mercenary for hire.”

“Marcurio? Ugh… you even zound like him. Fuckin’ Marcus. Fuckin’ Zimperial.”

“Maybe, but at least I’m better looking.”

Diana squinted her eyes to keep from seeing double and stared at the man. “You’re pretty cute. Cuter zan Marcus.”

“See? Told you. And what’s your name, sweetheart?”

“Diana.”

Alrighty, Diana. Let’s go,” he said, lifting her to her feet. 

“Where we goin’?”

“To your room.”

Marcurio had an arm wrapped around the wobbly woman to keep her from falling over as he walked her up the steps towards her room. She pointed to which room was hers. Once they reached her room, he sat her down in a chair as he got her bed ready, pulling down the covers and fluffing her pillows. When he turned around to get her into bed, she was standing there, teetering back and forth, slipping off her wedding dress. Before he was able to stop her, she let it fall. She had nothing on underneath, which she probably did for her wedding night. The woman just stood there naked, seemingly without a care.

“Uh, do you need help getting in?” he asked, turning around. Normally, he wouldn’t mind a little breast ogling, but she wasn’t in any state for his leering. 

“Wha never zeen breasts before?”

Before Marcurio could answer, he heard her collapse on the ground. He turned and rushed over to her. _Great. She’s passed out._ At least he was being paid for this, but he groaned at not wanting to lifter her naked body off the floor. But he couldn’t just leave her there either. So he bent down and lifted her, ignoring her soft naked skin. Then he placed her gently on the bed while trying not to stare. He adjusted her on her side in case she had to be sick and pulled the covers over her. 

When he sat up and tried to leave, she grabbed his hand. Apparently, she was awake again. 

“Kiz me,” she said, staring at him and looking a bit less inebriated. She must have had a moment of lucidity.

“I don’t take advantage of women, especially in your state.”

“Then stay. Please. I don’t wanna be alone.”

Before he could say anything, she passed out again.

When Diana opened her eyes, the room was dark except for one burning candle. It must have been evening. Her head was pounding and her mouth felt like a draugr’s asshole; not that she would know. _Do draugr even have assholes?_ She cast a mild healing spell on her head, breathing a sigh of relief, and drank some water that was sitting on a table next to her, washing away the foul ash in her mouth. She didn’t remember how she got to her room. When she pulled her covers aside, she noticed she was naked. That was when she saw and felt the heavy arm draped over her waist. 

“What the…”

She tried to move, but the arm pulled her up tight against a hard, warm body. “Marcus?” she whispered. Did he come back to her? She couldn’t remember. The last thing she recalled was getting drunk down at the tavern after he abandoned her at the altar. She was humiliated.

When she turned around to give him a tongue lashing, she saw a man that was not Marcus sleeping next to her. Did she have sex with him? Was that why she was naked? But no. He was fully dressed. Her movements must have woken him up. His tawny eyes opened, and they didn’t look alarmed, so maybe they did nothing after all.

“Who are you?” she whispered, bunching the covers tight around her.

“You forgot me already? I’m hurt,” he teased. “I’m Marcurio. I had to bring you up to your room after a morning of binge drinking. You asked me to stay, so I made sure you didn’t die from your own vomit.”

“Oh… so why… why am I naked?”

“I did my best not to look. You stripped down before I could stop you.”

“Oh,” she said again. “So we… we did nothing?”

“Anything like what? Sex? Nope. I was the perfect gentleman despite your best efforts,” he said, winking at her.

“My fiance abandoned me on my wedding day. He said he found another woman.” Diana wasn’t sure why she was telling him or if he even cared. She didn’t have anyone to talk to, she supposed. 

“He’s a fool,” he said, and it looked as if he meant it.

“That we can agree on. Thank you for helping me, despite men not being my favorite right now.”

Marcurio shrugged. “Well, Keevara, the owner of the inn here paid me, though I would have done it for free. Just don’t tell her that.”

Diana didn’t smile. She was still too angry, but the hurt was slowly taking over. She was utterly alone despite the man lying in her bed. He was handsome. His hair as dark as hers, his skin dusky with a splash of freckles on his nose and light brown eyes. He looked every bit as Imperial as she did.

“You didn’t have to stay.”

“I don’t think I could have lived with myself had I abandoned you too, then you choked to death from drinking too much. Not everyone is your Marcus.”

She realized she was lucky too. She was so drunk, she couldn’t remember anything. Any man could have helped her to her room, then helped themselves to her body. Marcurio could have done just that, especially stripping down, but he wouldn’t have stayed and he wouldn’t have been dressed. She believed him. 

There was one thing she definitely needed. It was to forget about Marcus for a while. The drink helped, but she felt as naked on the inside as she was on the outside. Wrapping herself around a handsome body would be good for her, even if it was just for a little while.

He hadn’t moved, so perhaps he would be willing? She reached out a tentative hand to his face. It was shaking a little bit, but she didn’t stop herself. Then she raked fingers through his soft hair, dragging her fingers down his face towards his lower lip as he stared at her. “You’re really handsome,” she whispered.

“And you’re very beautiful. As I said; your ex is a fool.”

She enjoyed hearing his words, but she didn’t smile at them. “Would you be up for helping me for a while to get him off of my mind and losing two years from my life?”

“Perhaps. It depends on what you want me to do.”

It wasn’t like her to ask for sex from a strange man or have a one-night stand, but her life completely changed that morning, making her bolder. But she struggled with asking outright. No, she wasn’t bold at all, rolling over on her back, covering her eyes with her forearm, and groaned.

“Do you want to fuck, Diana? Need a little revenge sex?” he asked, much bolder than she was and clearly a mind reader. 

When she turned her head towards him, she nodded, feeling her face flush.

Marcurio smiled and reached over, grabbed her neck, and pulled her face to his. He then pressed lips to hers, swiping his tongue and inserting it in her mouth when she opened to him. She then reached for him, slipping her hand through his hair and clutching it in her fingers, making him moan. No, he didn’t mind giving her a little revenge sex if she wanted it. When he pulled away, he stood up and removed his clothes, dropping them unceremoniously on the ground.

“Oh, you’ll do fine, indeed,” she said, looking at him up and down. His body was full of lean muscle and a wonderfully long cock. She never liked them too wide because it hurt, but length was another story. _Yes, please_.

After crawling back into the bed, he eased her on her back, spread her knees apart and slipped a finger deep inside her. Diana arched her back for more and groaned. There was no easing into it. Once she was clear about what she wanted, Marcurio gave it to her, no questions asked. When his finger hit that spot, she asked for more and he thrust another finger inside. 

“Yes, like that,” she whimpered.

What she didn’t know was the mercenary was also a mage. He pulled his face away from hers and trailed kisses down her throat, spending time on her luscious breasts, suckling her nipples while she wreathed under him, begging for more. If he was good at anything, it was making women want more, and he had no problem giving it. 

His trailing kisses reached her mound and when he rolled his tongue over her clit, she cried out, grasping his hair. “You like that?” he chuckled.

“Uhm, what woman wouldn’t? Stop talking.”

Marcurio laughed again, feeling his warm breath on her pussy, and resumed his clit worship while casting a delicate lightning spell deep inside her. “Oh. My. Gods,” she cried out as her fingers spiked through his hair, then clung on for dear life. Her hips thrust towards his mouth, begging him to devour her. 

She didn’t want to think about her ex, but fuck, he never, ever went down on her as this man did. Marcus made it seem like a chore. Marcurio practically worshiped her as he swirled his tongue, licked, nibbled while he thrust those electrifying fingers deep inside as he hit that spot she loved so much. Diana didn’t mean to cling to him like he was her lifeline, but she needed more. “Fuck, don’t stop!” She was strangely at ease while her body was tense as it debated to maintain the feeling or let go.

Her body grew warm, and the pressure built down her body, congregating around her pussy as he swallowed her. Then it hit as if her body was an explosion, crying out as she came, pulsing on his tongue. Marcurio dug in, giving her more until she begged him to stop. Diana’s body grew limp as he came up for air, kissing up her body to wipe away her arousal from his face.

“Is he forgotten yet?” he smirked.

“Who?”

He chuckled as he climbed onto his knees, hovering over her boneless body, stroking himself. Her eyes were glazed over with a small smile planted on her face. Marcurio loved doing that to women. It was a powerful feeling to make them turn to mush in pleasure. “Ready for round two?” he asked. All she could do was nod.

Marcurio grabbed his cock and plunged into her in one thrust. Her limp body came alive as she arched her back into him as if her pussy was trying to suck him in, and she cried out once more. The woman was warm, wet and so tight. He had to breathe for a moment before continuing. “Do you want it slow and tender, or fast and hard?”

Diana cracked an eye open and winged her brow. “What do you think? Do not take it easy on me.”

“Your wish is my command, milady,” he said, straddling her thighs. He grabbed her wrists and lifted her arms above her head, holding them there. It forced her plump breasts outward, and he bent over to suckle them once more before he started. Then he kissed her again. Once he pushed away from her, he pulled out and thrust hard, deep inside that had her pushing her hips out and squeezing him tight. His speed picked up as he rolled his hips and punched into her with his cock.

Yes, this was the very thing she needed. He thrust so deep into her, hitting that spot. His grip was tight around her wrists, but she enjoyed being held down as if this man owned her, possessive over her. His thrusts were so fast and hard, the bed was banging against the wall, but she didn’t care. She still needed more. While she couldn’t cling to him with her arms, she could with her legs as they snaked around his waist and locked her ankles, pulling his cock deeper inside, if that was even possible. 

“You feel so fucking good,” she groaned.

“As do you, my dear,” he replied, panting.

Diana could scarcely believe it. As he rode her like some mare, she could feel another orgasm building. It wasn’t possible, was it? The heat surrounded her pussy, and she could feel his cock swell and getting not. She knew he was close, and the feeling was driving her crazy. Diana never had an orgasm during sex. Ever. Marcus was a fast lover, but Marcurio kept up his speed like he was one of those Dwemer machines. Tears welled up in her eyes as the pressure was begging for release.

“Come for me,” he said, voice hoarse with lust. It was as if he knew she was not letting go. Her body was so in tune with his she cried out as she came, responding to his words.

Her face was beautiful as she let go. Her lips swollen, eyes closed, brow furrowed as she cried out into the night once more. Between the scene beneath him and the strong pulses around his cock, he let go himself, as the orgasm seemed to travel down his spine, signaling his balls to be ready. He soon spilled come over and over into her. It seemed endless. “Ah! Fuck me!” he grunted.

Marcurio shook his head from the orgasmic fog and looked down at the woman who was now crying. _Well, that’s never good_. He pulled out and laid next to her, pulling her close to him. Diana rested her head on his shoulder as he soothed her. “Hey, I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

“Oh, this is just pent up sexual frustration I didn’t even know I had. Ignore me,” she sniffed. 

They laid there in silence, not saying anything as he trailed soft fingers along her spine. She finally settled down, sniffing and wiping away tears. When she looked up at him, he was watching her with concerned eyes. She wondered why he seemed to care. “You don’t have to stay and hold me. I’m fine. Well, not fine, but I will be. If you need to go, I won’t tie you down.”

“Well, I’m not going anywhere because I’m not finished with you yet.”

“No? Planning to fuck me until I have amnesia and never remember that bastard again?” she laughed.

“That’s the plan.”

No, he didn’t mind being used for a while longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments are always appreciated and welcome.


	38. Bone Deep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a request.
> 
> Ancano is tired of it all. He can't find evidence enough to bring in the Thalmor and destroy the College of Winterhold, or Savos Aren. They are threatening him that if he doesn't find something soon or plant the evidence, they would kill him. The Altmer is struggling with what to do. He may be a Thalmor, but he isn't dishonest. He goes to Savos' quarters to try and find something once more, but instead, he finds something unexpected. Ancano realizes he would rather die than betray the Archmage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is written in Ancano's POV. 
> 
> M/M Ancano and Savos Aren.

I crush the letter in my hand as if I could crush the reminder that I was tired. Bone deep tired. It’s not exhaustion of the body, but of the mind. This is the worst assignment I ever received from Elenwen. Why the College of Winterhold? They are nothing but mediocre mages. _Fine, some excel at the craft_ , I admit with grudging acceptance. But there is nothing here. No secret worship of Talos. No plans of overthrowing the Aldmeri Dominion—as if they could. I scoff at the thought that these subpar mages could do anything beyond making snow sparkles. 

I’ve been at the college for almost a year with nothing to show for it. The letter is threatening. If I don’t find something to pin on the college or Savos Aren, I will pay for my insolence and laziness. As arrogant as I am—yes, I admit it—the Thalmor are so narcissistic they believe they are never wrong. If I write back and tell them as much, they will punish me. I don’t know what to do. Planting something on Savos seems the best course of action if I want to live. I don’t want to do that either, but I may have no choice.

I toss the letter into the fire and watch it burn, crumbling in embers and ash. It stretches out as if embracing the flames, wanting to rid itself of the threats. Part of me wishes I was the one burning. I may be an arrogant bastard and believe in the purpose behind the Thalmor, but at least I can say I’m honest. I don’t want anyone to get hurt for no reason at all other than saving face. What hypocrisy. The Thalmor pride themselves on being above lies and deceit, yet here they are leaving me with little choice but to do the very thing they loathe. It makes me question everything I’ve been taught. What do they have against the college, anyway?

Savos Aren is teaching the students right about now. I can sneak into his room and plant something… anything. I don’t know what yet, but I’ve snooped around in there more times than I can count, trying to find some secret of his to send back to the Thalmor. He’s infuriatingly simple and honest. I almost hate him for it. Almost. The fact is, I don’t hate him at all. Those evenings when I’m in his room, we have long discussions as I try to pick his brain, waiting for him to slip me some juicy detail that I can send to Elenwen. His words are always carefully crafted. I don’t know if it’s intentional to keep me from finding anything out or if he’s always this way. But I find myself drawn to the Dunmer. I shouldn’t. Altmer have no business being intrigued by any race but their own. It’s not just intrigue, but a deep-rooted attraction I would never dare act upon. Or would I?

Because I care more about living a pain-free life, I decide to try again. I leave my room, lock it to keep out those who want to do the very thing I’m about to. Then I climb the long flight of stone stairs all the way to Savos’ quarters. It’s a large, rotund room, filled with several bookcases crammed with books and scrolls, an alchemy and enchanting table tucked in a corner, and tables covered with various alchemical ingredients, soul gems, and more books. Savos isn’t as neat as I am. His bed is unmade and has yesterday’s robes lying haphazardly on the floor. The room is messy, but there’s a lived-in coziness about it. It’s the perfect representation of Savos Aren. I strangely like it. It feels like home, something I’ve been missing in my life for far too long.

I pull out his chair in front of his desk and sit in it. The cushion is well-worn and comfortable. There are scrolls strewn all over it. I know if he is hiding something, it wouldn’t sit on top of his desk for all to see. Then again, what a perfect way to hide something nefarious, out in the open like that. I unroll each one, quickly scanning the pages, but it’s all tediousness. Supply shipments, new students requesting enrollment, an order for a new enchantment book, blah blah blah. Nothing. I toss one of the scrolls. I’m filled with agitation and a little fear.

As I sit there, I steeple my fingers under my chin and think about what I need to do to stay alive. The more I process through all the ways to frame Savos, the more I start to loathe my very people. If I’m anything at all, I’m honest despite my job in intelligence and intrigue. If I want to bring down the College of Winterhold, I want to find something real, tangible. Not something planted just to keep my head. I’m disillusioned. Frustrated. A thought niggles on the back of my mind that I should flee and never look back. But I would be looking over my shoulder for the rest of my life. 

I hear someone shuffling behind me. I startle out of my thoughts and quickly turn to see Savos staring at me. His red eyes tell me nothing. If he’s angry or surprised at seeing me sit at his desk, he doesn’t show it. My face gives away nothing either, hiding my frustration at myself for getting caught. The Dunmer must know I’m here snooping. How could he not? We meet often to talk, but always at his invitation. I’m angry at myself for letting my mind slip, unaware of the time. It’s not like me. I’m precise in everything I do. It just shows how rattled the Thalmor make me.

“Ancano. What can I do for you this evening?” he asks. “I don’t recall requesting to meet tonight.”

I try to think of something reasonable, but my mind draws a blank. I am honest. “If I do not find something on you or the college, they will kill me.”

The Dunmer nods as if he’s known all along. He probably has. It wouldn’t surprise me. There are intelligence and depth in the man. All the times I poke and prod him for information, he is probably doing the same. We always have a lot to say, but at the same time, nothing at all during our talks. It’s a careful dance of words. What does surprise me is that he’s not angry, throwing a fit, or kicking me out. I ask myself why.

“So, the Thalmor have resulted in petty trickery to get their way now?” It’s not really a question as it is a statement, and he says it without disgust. He’s not shocked by the news. He is even more intelligent than I give him credit. I suppose one doesn’t become an Archmage for being stupid or ignorant.

“That seems to be the case,” I say, nodding. I don’t know why I am telling him this. Probably because I am giving up. I’m tired. Fed up. I’m done playing this game of theirs. I turn from him, resting my elbows on the table, rubbing my face. The frustration at not knowing what to do spreads through my body, giving me a headache. I could heal myself, but I want it. I deserve the pain, as slight as it is. 

I wait for the ranting, but it never comes. Why would he if he already knows? Another surprise. I feel strong fingers on either side of my shoulders. They dig into my tired muscles. My body freezes at this unexpected turn of events, waiting for him to strangle me or something. I should let him. Instead, he’s massaging them. Why is Savos rubbing my pain away?

“You are so tense. I can’t imagine having to deal with the Thalmor day in and day out. You must be frustrated. Maybe even a little afraid,” he said as if testing the waters to see my reaction. “I can’t imagine you being afraid to die, but I know the kind of pain they inflict. You will want to die.”

I nod in agreement, not lifting my head, allowing the man to rub my shoulders. His strong fingers roam up my neck and work out knots I didn’t even know I had. He doesn’t use a healing spell. Savos just uses his hands as if they were magic all on their own. I moan as he loosens a knot. 

“It’s a shame, really. I do enjoy our talks, Ancano. I would hate to see you leave or die, and I’ve… grown used to you,” he says.

I wonder what he means by ‘grown used to me. “You… you don’t hate me after I admitted to you the reason I’m here?”

“I have always known why you are here, Ancano. I’m not stupid. What other reason does the Thalmor have at the College of Winterhold? Why would I need an advisor when I didn’t even ask for one?” he asks as he continues to rub my knots away like a rolling pin to bread dough. I want to be bread. The thought comes unbidden, and it makes me chuckle. I’m not known to have a sense of humor, so my laugh surprises us both.

“What’s so funny?”

“I don’t really know exactly. I’m just so damned tired.” There’s not much else to say about that, so I shrug.

“I understand.”

Savos probably does understand. He would be the only one. It’s why I like and respect him. 

I hiss as his fingers penetrate a small, tight muscle. It sends a sharp pain down my spine. Savos apologizes and keeps working his magic. I am relaxing, easing my muscles, welcoming his touch. 

“There you go,” he says. “Just relax.”

I pause and ask him why. Why is he not angry? Why is he trying to get rid of my pain and stress?

I think he shrugs. I don’t know because I can’t see him behind me. But he doesn’t answer with words. Instead, he pulls aside my robe from my shoulder and presses his warm lips to my skin. I grow cold and my muscles stiffen again. _Did he just kiss me?_ Before the question forms out loud, I turn my head to see his red eyes glazed over with heat. His dark pupils are wide, making his eyes look black. His face is close to mine. So close I can feel his breath on my skin. I don’t think. I don’t process my actions as I reach towards his face, as if beckoning me by some magical force. The back of my mind wants to resist, but desire overrules. There is no stopping it as our mouths meet in a searing kiss. I know right then why he enjoys talking to me so many evenings. It startles me that I want him in a more profound way.

“You should hate me,” I whisper in his mouth. He swallows my words, deepening our kiss. A flick and roll of his tongue on my lips has me opening for him. Our tongues are in a battle for dominance as our kiss grows heated. I feel his fingers digging into my shoulders, but it doesn’t hurt, though it will leave bruises on my skin. It’s possessive as he marks me. As if he’s making me his and I accept it. Revel in it. Want it. It turns me on as my cock grows hard. 

Abruptly he pulls away. We are both panting. I feel my heart wanting to stumble out of my chest. It will hurt if it does, but worth it. I know Savos could put me back together again if I break. He has that kind of power over me. 

“I did hate you. I do. But there’s a fine line between hate and love. They share the same emotions. They make your heartbeat just as fast, breath just as erratically, fill you with the same want to hurt or own, to hold on to something, to scream and be heard, to make you cry.” His words tumble out of his mouth more coherently than I felt. His words were like poetry in my addled mind. “I also want you more than words can say.” He says this as if his words weren’t enough already.

My stomach flips painfully. I grasp it as I look at him, trying to calm the waves of pain and self-loathing. Do I want this? Do I want him? The answer is a resounding yes. If I’m going to die at the hands of the Thalmor, perhaps I could have a moment of joy and pleasure. It’s time to obtain something I want for a change. I shouldn’t want Savos. All my training and ancestral instincts scream at me that this is forbidden. He’s a Dunmer. Filth in the Aldmeri Dominion’s eyes. All I see is a man I want to hold, kiss, fuck. It may be forbidden, but I’m running on primal instincts. The back of my mind tells me that my primal urges are proof we are not gods. We never were. It’s an epiphany I am not sure I like.

I stand up, cupping Savos’ face. His skin is surprisingly soft despite him being older. I don’t care about his age. “I want to…” I mutter. I’m unsure of what I want to say, losing my train of thought as I watch his eyes go through a series of emotional responses.

“What do you want?” he asks.

“I want to feel pleasure. To take back control of my life. To stop being so tired all the time. I want to kiss you, make love to you, hold you, make you orgasm like never before.” The words come tumbling out of me like an avalanche of snow, ice, rocks, and trees down a mountainside. They are uncaring about the consequences. 

Savos gasps. His pupils dilate, turning from ruby red to ebony black. His eyes scream the truth of his words that he wants me. There’s a certain solace in knowing someone wants you. It’s like the light of Mundus kissing your skin during the first warm day of the year. Or dragging yourself into the familiarity of your own bed after traveling for months.

“Take me,” Savos whispers.

I think my stomach flips upside down. _That can’t be healthy, right?_ I don’t care. We plunge our mouths together, devouring lips and tongues. But we are far from satiated. Our movements become desperate as we struggle to remove our mage’s robes. We grasp, pull, tug, yank, never separating our mouths until we stand there fully naked. 

We come up for air and our eyes gravitate between our legs. We both want to see what we are working with. He’s not a disappointment. I want to hold it, squeeze it, stroke it, lick and taste it. I want to make it mine. “Beautiful,” I think I mumble. I must have said it out loud because he growled. Savos actually growled at me. The sound fills me with pleasure and need.

He drops to his knees and sits there, looking up as if in deference. He beat me to it. It is the very thing I want to do to him, yet I feel like I am the winner. To feel his lips tight around my cock has me leaking. He licks his lips, watching as it beads at my tip. Savos flicks his tongue out and licks it away. I grow still and moan. The very idea of seeing the Archmage between my legs, licking my cock has unspeakable thoughts running through my lust-addled brain. It turns me into something I never expected. Dirty talk isn’t me, but that doesn’t stop me from doing so. “Suck me,” I order him. “I want to feel your warm mouth around my cock.”

Savos smirks as if he knows something I don’t. Perhaps he does, but I fail to recognize it. He grabs my cock and runs his tongue from the base to the tips. His eyes never waver from mine as I watch him. It’s erotic. I don’t know why it turns me on so much. Like we are connected to the very depths of our souls. I gasp and moan when he takes me in his mouth, enveloping his lips around me. My hands go straight to his auburn hair, tangling my fingers in its smoothness. It’s silky and I never want to let go. If I disconnect from him, I just may float away into nothingness.

The Dunmer takes all of me. My breath holds as I hit the back of his throat. He gags, tightening around my cock. My body thrusts, fucking his mouth. His hands move to my ass, pulling in to take all of me. “By Auriel,” I moan. No, I have to stop before he consumes me. I’m not ready to finish. I yank my cock out of his mouth and ignore his confusion. He wonders why we’ve stopped, so I tell him, despite lacking any coherent vocabulary.

“Oil. Need to be in you.” I sound like an ancient Argonian—a beast—but I don’t care. Savos stands, rushing to a set of drawers, digging around and pulling out what he’s looking for. The vial is small, and he hands it to me. His eyes are expectant, but he’s strangely silent. Usually, he’s quite the talker. Now he waits. I can almost see his heart skipping beats. He wants this as much as I do.

“Bend over the desk,” I said with as much authority as I could muster.

Savos turns and sweeps his arm across the desk, clearing it of all papers, ink, and quills. The black liquid of the ink spills to the ground, but we pay it no mind. He does as he’s told, leaning over the table, arms spread out like a bird. He’s completely naked, not just physically, but metaphorically. It’s a vulnerable position, especially with who I am, and we both know it. I could easily snap his neck, but I wouldn’t. I just want to fuck him. Make love to him. I don’t care. I just need to be inside him—desperate for it.

I spill oil in my hand. It pools and spills to the floor, a permanent reminder of what we are and about to do. I lean my body over his. It’s warm and sets me aflame. He writhes under me as I press soft kisses to the dark skin on his back. “Tell me what you want,” I whisper in his ear. Goosebumps form on his skin. He’s as turned on as I am.

“Now…” he mutters.

“Now, what?”

“Inside me… now. Please.”

I smile, but he can’t see it. I lean in towards his turned face and kiss him as my fingers trail down his spine, through the crevasse of his ass, reaching his tight hole. Savos stops breathing and closes his eyes. I rub his pucker and he rewards me with moans. His sounds will linger in my memories for years to come. I know he will ruin me for future lovers. There’s a strange connectedness we share that I’ve never felt before and probably won’t again. The thought of loss and hurt flickers in my mind. 

“When I look at you, all I see is death—my death,” I tell him.

His eyes flash in understanding as he turns his head to me. “Everything is fixable, Ancano. Everything but death.” 

He’s trying to give me a way out, but I don’t see it. My death is inevitable as soon as I fill him with my cock, but I nod and insert my finger, stretching him. His fingers grasp the table tight, turning his knuckles white. “More,” he says.

I oblige and insert another finger, thrusting in and out, gliding easily from the oil. His muscles loosen as he accepts me. His ass pushes back into my fingers. The movement is clear. He wants even more. More than fingers. He wants my cock.

“It’s enough,” he says. “In me… now.”

I pull out of him. He whines from the loss. More oil coats my hand as I stroke myself. I line my cock up to his entrance. Savos holds his breath. It’s his way of getting ready to be filled. He probably wonders if he can handle my size. He will. I tell him so. “You can take this. You will take this.” He just nods.

I enter him an inch at a time. I want him to take me, but I don’t want him hurting. My body is hovering over his, fingers stroking along his spine as I slowly move into him. Finally, the ring muscle loosens as I slide right in. We both groan. My body stills. I can’t come yet. How humiliating would that be? A few deep breaths in and out calm me, and I’m ready to thrust again. His ass is better than any hand or mouth. It’s tight, warm, slick. It takes a great deal of will to not pound into him. 

Savos leans back into me again, arching his back to take me deeper. It’s a beautiful sight. I want to wreck him, but in a good way. The last thing I ever want to do is hurt the man. I want to leave him wanting more. The realization leaves me nervous that I will do just that. It’s better I suffer. As I accept the inevitable, I thrust faster, harder, deeper. 

“You feel so good around me, Savos. I could do this for eternity.”

“Yes. Fuck yes,” he gasps. I never swear, but he does. I like it.

“Tell me how much you like me in you.”

“I love you fucking me. I want you to fuck me harder.”

It’s enough. I give him what he wants and pound into him, letting me know I’ve hit the right spot. I focus on that as I lean in, grasping his cock, stroking him to the rhythm of my thrusts. He’s about to come soon. I can tell. It nearly has me coming myself. His cock swells and grows hot in my hand. Soon he cries out, his voice echoing along the round walls of his large room. His hot seed spills on my hand and onto the floor. It pulses as I continue to pump until he begs me to stop. 

I gasp his hips, fingers digging tight into his dark flesh, and I thrust hard, fast. The orgasm travels fast down my spine, tingling my skin. The pressure is great, like a Dwemer valve begging for release before it explodes. My balls tighten, then release. I cry out as Savos did, spilling deep inside him. I thrust until I can no longer move. My body falls on top of his as our frantic hearts beat as one. My arms spread out along his, twining our fingers together. I pant in his neck while planting small kisses there. 

A surge of emotion fills me, but I quickly shut it down. I need to return to my cold and heartless ways before it consumes me. I pull out of him. He must feel as bereft as I do. 

“Stay there,” I say as I go look for something to clean him up. I find a rag and return to him, wiping away the oil and leaking come. Our robes are tangled on the floor. I pick his up and drape it over his body, then I put mine on. 

When we are clothed, it is the first time I dare look at him. I’m afraid of what I will see. Will I see my own emotions mirrored in his? Will there be regret and disgust now that we aren’t drugged on lust? But all I see is warmth, understanding, and tenderness. The sight is worse than my deepest fears. Perhaps it is better that he hates me. I struggle for breath.

His hands are warm as they take my face. His lips are swollen and soft as he kisses me. “Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, let’s talk about your problem.”

“There is nothing to talk about. I’ve made my decision.”

Savos wings a brow. “Oh? And what might that be?” 

You have concern, wondering if I will turn on him after all that. That wasn’t even a possibility, but I don’t say that. “I will inform the Thalmor that I could find nothing, and I refuse to be their puppet to plant incriminating information on you.” I pick an imaginary speck of dust from my robes, brush the fabric of wrinkles, then stand tall, nose in the air. As I walk away, he grabs my arm, pulling me back.

“Let’s not get overly dramatic. If you tell them that, all they are going to do is send someone else, so you will just die for no reason.”

“I have thought of everything. There is nothing else for me to do.”

“I have a story. A true story. It’s a secret that I have held for as long as I can remember. I’ve told no one. It will be enough to give them something. That way you can live and stay with me.”

I shake my head. I don’t want to hear his secrets. They might kill him for it, or worse, have me kill him. “No. You know what they do to those who hold secrets they want.”

Savos waves a hand in dismissal. “They will want this one. The search for a special artifact will leave them too busy to mess with me. They won’t send anyone else.”

“But they will…” I look down. I don’t want to have hope, yet I don’t want to leave him either. Not after this. 

“Will what?” Savos places his hands on my shoulders and pulls me close to him. Our foreheads meet and our eyes close. “What will they do?”

“They will… take me away. Put me on another assignment.” I shouldn’t care. I went into this with full knowledge I was going to die. This should make me happy, but it doesn’t. We are closer than ever. You can’t get more close to a person than from what we just shared.

“Let them. Stay with me anyway. Start over. There’s a woman in Riften who can change your face. It’s expensive, but to look like someone else, the Thalmor will never know. We can arrange it to make it look like you died. Then have you here as one of our instructors. Gods know our students could use someone like you with your experience. We can stay together.”

I could feel the coldness of my heart breaking ice surrounding it. It crumbles as coils of hope and happiness replace it. I didn’t want to dare feel it. The loss would be even worse.

“Trust me. This will work,” Savos insisted. “Stay with me.”

His eyes were hopeful, pleading. His idea could work. “Are you sure you trust me enough to tell me your secret? How do you know I won’t run off with it?”

Savos smiled, giving a little chuckle. “I don’t. But I think I know you well enough by now. You may be a Thalmor, but you’re an honest one. We both get something out of this.”

The Archmage takes my hand and pulls me towards his bed. I let him lead me like some pup on a leash, but I don’t mind. The evening is late. Between the sex and emotions, I’m exhausted. He undresses me again, and he drops his robes to the floor. We curl up in bed, our limbs tangled together. Savos presses a kiss to my forehead, brushing back my blond hair from my face. His smile is warm and inviting. It’s hard not to be drawn in by it. 

“Let me tell you the story about the Staff of Magnus…”


End file.
